


Everything's Gonna Be Jake

by AyYouFiction



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The Journey of Natty Gann (1985)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:23:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyYouFiction/pseuds/AyYouFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's on her own and has to travel the countryside to get back to the only family she's got left. Sounds familiar? It's from the movie "The Journey of Natty Gann". This is an AU where Arya lives in the Great Depression era of the US. See the notes for a more in depth explanation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scram, Kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
>    
> 
> 
> **Notes:**  
>  I'm going to say sorry in advance for the long note. First order of business, I have to warn that I did not have a beta for this story so please continue with that in mind.
> 
> The reason why I decided to merge these two stories was because I realized how similar "The Journey of Natty Gann" and Arya's story (as well as other things) were after recently watching this old favorite of mine. "The Journey of Natty Gann" has so many similarities that I have to wonder if GRRM was influenced in some way by this obscure 1985 Disney movie.
> 
> Similarities:
> 
> Natty Gann is a grey-eyed, brown haired, plucky tomboy (complete with boy clothes) who is very much a daddy's girl. Unlike Arya, Natty isn't from a wealthy family, and her father doesn't die, but is shipped off half way across the US,. However, like Arya this "loss of daddy" begins her journey through the county that gives us (the audience) a bigger view into the country's poor.
> 
> Wolf (yes, a wolf) is Natty's companion and protector.
> 
> Harry (yup, just like Arya's alternate name Arry?) is an older boy Natty meets during her travels. Their first meeting, he stands up for her against the other hobos in the boxcar when they start picking on her. They do separate early in the story but are reunited toward the end.
> 
> There is a blacksmith. This man also happens to embody characteristics of Sandor Clegane (at first, is very gruff and seemingly mean. He's large with half his face scarred from burns. My family's jaw dropped when we saw that one. Later, it's shown that he's actually sweet and wants to be helpful).
> 
> I should say, if this movie was some inspiration, then kudos to GRRM for creating a rich side story from those elements, but he may need to revisit his opinion about fanfic.
> 
> I did a fair bit of research about this era and the life of a hobo, but I'm sure I may screw something up somewhere. If I do, let me know, and I'll try to work in the fix so long as it doesn't change the overall story. I'm not sure how much interest there will be for this story. I have ten chapters outlined, but I figure if it's a dud, I can kick it to the bottom of my To Do list.
> 
> I own nothing of the original A Song of Ice and Fire Series content nor the original Game of Thrones content. Everything else is mine.

Mycah stood in front of his apartment building with his hands in his pockets and his head hung low. He kicked at something on the ground with the toe of his shoe and sighed after glancing up toward his apartment.

Arya was going to go to him, to talk to him and cheer him up. His dad had a temper. Not so much the kind that would rough up a boy, but the kind that would make a boy think twice about being in the same room with him. The Dabney family had a hard couple of months, enough to make Mr. Dabney a little nutty.

In two months time, Mycah lost his grandma, two sisters and a baby brother to a cough that everyone got at the beginning of winter. The doctor said they just didn't have the strength to fight it with so little food to eat.

Not many have that kind of money or food nowadays.

Even though Mycah stopped going to school so that he could work, the money he and his dad made wasn't enough. Wages were little more than nothing if you were lucky enough to find a job. That's just the way it was.

Their grief was something else she could understand. Arya's little brothers died of whooping cough over a year ago and pneumonia took her mom and sister a couple of years before that. No matter how much time passed, though, she still missed them. It got lonely in their two room apartment with only her, her dad and big brother.

For Mycah she couldn't do much but tell him he wasn't alone, but just as she took a step into the street to cross, two cops dragged Mr. Dabney out of their apartment and threw him to the ground. Another man followed a very weepy Mrs. Dabney out of the apartment carrying a bundle of things in his arms. When they got to the street, the cop threw everything on the ground and turned back to see the fourth leaving, locking the door behind him.

There was a crowd gathering at the sight of yet another family put out on the street. This was the fifth family in the last week, at least that she counted, and it broke something in her to not only see five, but that it was her friend and his family. It seemed to brake something in the people around her too because there were people shouting at the cops and pumping their fists in the air, getting very angry.

It happened so fast, Arya wasn't sure it really happened if it wasn't for the puddle of mush on the ground at the feet of the cop. Someone threw an old, rotted apple and it just missed the cop's head, hitting the wall in back of him. That's when it all went in the crapper. People were throwing things, anything they could get their hands on: buttons, bottles, even stones laying around on the street. Arya looked down at her feet at the stones in the street then looked at her friend cowering in the crook of the stairs of the next building. The cops were nothing more than muscle for the rich. Sure, they had their badges, but sometimes it felt as though that was all that separated them from any other hired goon with their batons and their pistols.

She bent down and reached for one of the stones when a hand grabbed her wrist. It was her father, and he shook his head at her to let her know he knew exactly what she was going to do and that he didn't like it one bit.

"Let's go, Arya," he said to her, pulling her by the wrist down the street.

"But Dad," she tried so say while also trying to keep up with him, "Mycah'll have no where else to go."

Her dad stopped and spun around on her, looking her square in the eye. "Arya, everyone's got to do what they can to survive. Even us. More cops are gonna' come and…" He closed his eyes and sighed. "I just don't want you there when they do. You hear me, Arya?"

"Yeah, Dad," she said, but couldn't stop the trembling when she saw the look on his face. He was scared, really scared.

"Good." Her dad nodded and let go of her wrist, jerking his head in the direction of the factory. "Now, come on. Your brother's waiting for us."

Her dad and brother worked at the textile factory owned by Mr. Baratheon. Him and her dad were on good terms, but as wages dropped and jobs disappeared, things weren't so great.

So in the basement of the factory before work began, several men argued among themselves, asking questions like how they and their sons work all day and still didn't have enough to feed and house their family, but Mr. Baratheon can afford his swanky house and new Rolls. How it can be fair that their children are dying because they were too weak from hunger to fight off a cough but the Baratheon children are as plump as can be.

Throughout the gathering her dad listened to each man, but kept his head down. The only thing to perk his ears was when a man mentioned forming a union. For some, it was a dirty word. Many bosses didn't like unions and would fire any workers on the spot for just saying it or talking to someone saying it, but some thought it was the land of milk and honey, a promise of a good life.

"What say you, Ned?" asked the guy and all heads turned to her dad.

Her father lifted his head and his gaze landed squarely on the man. There was a hint of annoyance, but mostly her dad just looked tired. With an exasperated sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, "I used to think it was a bad idea, but now…"

He sighed again. "They're squeezing as much work as they can from us without paying what we're worth. I'm not a Red, but we have to stand up for ourselves or we're gonna' be used up until there's nothing left."

Most of the men cheered around them, Robb too, but then Arya heard a grunt from the back of the large storage room. There was a man on the ground with a wound on his forehead that leaked blood everywhere. Standing over him was a man the size and look of a walrus with a cap and a baton in his hand.

There were several men in back of him, looking just as mean and just as dangerous.

All hells broke loose in the basement as men scattered and screamed. Arya wasn't sure where to go, where to turn, because she didn't know the factory well. She'd only been there a few times to visit her father or brother at work, and had never been in the basement.

Her big brother, Robb, grabbed her arm and pulled her to an exit where her father was waiting for them. They ran up the steps and to the back alley, and Arya thought she'd have enough time to breathe when more men stood in their path, blocking their way out of the alley. They hadn't seen Arya, her brother or her dad yet, so Robb pushed her behind the garbage cans and her dad told her not to make a sound, no matter what happened.

The men turned to the voices and caught them just as Arya was able to hide fully. They were yanked and pushed down to the ground on their knees. Out came a woman with golden hair, a beautiful face, and clothes that must have cost a pretty penny. At her side was a golden-haired boy sneering at Arya's father and brother. "Mrs. Baratheon," her father addressed the woman, and she smiled in a way that didn't reach her cold eyes. He said something else to the woman, something Arya couldn't hear, but the woman replied, "He died yesterday. He can't help you now."

That's when one of the men took out a pistol and held it to her brother's forehead, and right before Arya's eyes, he was shot dead in the alley. The man moved to her dad and placed the pistol at his head.

"Snow!" her father yelled loudly, enough to be heard blocks away, then the gun fired and he slumped down to the ground with her brother.

Arya blinked back the tears and bit the side of her hand between her pointer finger and thumb, stifling a cry. In that one instant, she lost the rest of her family. Her father and brother murdered, and there wasn't a damned thing she could do but watch.

Even after the woman, her son and her henchmen left the alley, Arya couldn't bring herself to move from her hiding spot. She curled up with her knees pressed to her chest and her arms around them, rocking to soothe herself. She was an orphan, now, and she knew what happened to orphan girls. The cathouse down the street was full of them with their sad faces and dull eyes.

What was worse was that her mind replayed their deaths like the moving pictures looping over and over. And each time, she remember more and more blood. There was blood everywhere. Her dad and brother's blood.

By the time it got dark, Arya was able to think of more than the moment of her brother and her father's murders. She thought about rich Mrs. Baratheon, her weasel-faced son, and her muscle doing what they did to the men in the factory. She thought about her brother and father hiding her before they died, and she thought about her father's last word: Snow.

She had a cousin whose last name was Snow. Jon Snow. She barely remembered his face but she remembered him even though he'd moved West for a better life, someplace where no one knew that he was born out of wedlock. And when he moved to California, he changed his name from Stark to Snow.

It was the first time since it all happened that Arya had any desire to lift her head, get up and leave her hiding spot. Still, she feared going too far and seeing the blood and bodies of her father and brother.

She peeked out from behind the garbage cans to make sure there was no one around and stood up. It was dark, but she could see there were no bodies in the alley. For some reason, the Baratheons and the hired goons took them. Some part of her was angry that they would take what was left of her family like that, but another part of her was thankful. At least she didn't have to step over them to get out of the alley.

They barely had the money to eat and pay for the apartment, and Arya knew anything they had left of value was in her father's pocket at the time of his death. So there was nothing for her to go back to, nothing to help her get to California. But there was one way to get there other than walk the whole way. She'd heard some men, frustrated with the lack of jobs in the city, talk about riding the rails.

Hoping trains for a free ride was a dangerous thing; her father had told her so when she asked him about it. Legs getting chopped off and running into men who'd cut your throat for your shoes. It was no place for the average man, much less a girl. But when he told her that, she was a girl with a family and a home. Now, she had neither.

Arya started walking toward the railroad station and patted the small dagger hidden in her vest pocket that her cousin had mailed to her a couple of years ago. Her father didn't like it at the time, but he let her keep it so long as she promised not to use it unless it was life or death.

"Well, Dad, it's life or death," she said to herself as she continued down the street in the direction of the station.

Are you reading this story on a site that's not AO3 or FF? It doesn't belong there. It was stolen & the owner of the site is a thief and untrustworthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes:**  
>  I didn't want to only work slang from that era into the story but also into the titles of the story and chapters. They're fascinating to me.
> 
> "Jake" means fine so "It's Jake" means it's fine. I don't think "scram" has fallen totally out of American vernacular, yet, but for those that don't know, it means "go" or "go away" or "leave".
> 
>  
> 
> _Comments are how you pay a fanfic author. Feedback is worth it's weight in gold._


	2. Ride the Rails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who commented, kudo'd, and/or bookmarked this story.

By the time she reached the station, the one train going west was already chugging away towards its full speed. Arya ran as fast as she could, the pebbles and dirt sliding and making her work that much harder to catch up.

There was one boxcar with it's sliding door open, and that's the one she tried for as she strained her legs to pick up her pace by a little. It was enough to get her fingers hooked onto the corner, but as fast as the train was going, she lost her balance. She dangled from the train car, her legs all but useless sliding on the gravel, and her one goal was to not have them chopped under the iron wheel.

With all of her strength, she tried to pull herself up but it was hard to lift her entire body with just her arms. Even as she tried to squirm and twist enough to get her one leg up, that added help she needed to lift herself into the boxcar, her foot slipped from the edge and fell back to the ground.

The sound of the wheels against the rails was deafening, and her fingers were starting to ache holding all her weight. There was a moment when she considered letting go, let the train go on without her and just wait for another to come along. The only thing to kept her fingers desperately holding on was the fear of rolling the wrong way and losing a limb…or worse.

A burst of strength from her fear and desperation gave her what she needed to lift herself enough to straighten her arms and lift her leg over the edge of the boxcar door, enough to roll her body fully inside.

When she stopped rolling, the smell was the first thing to hit her. Piss and shit. It reeked of old piss and shit. Reflexively, she held her hand to her nose and mouth and took a look around. A bunch of men were standing from wherever they were, slowly making their way to her. She didn't expect so many in the boxcar; she didn't expect anyone, really. So worried about getting herself on the train, she didn't think about the other part her father warned her of: "men who'd cut your throat for your shoes."

Her fingers, still aching, reached for her dagger and gripped it tightly, holding it out and ready to fight. Two of the men backed off, but four others only smiled at her with their dirty, brown teeth and one of them pulled out a knife longer and broader than hers. That man's smile stretched across his narrow head and his eyes slid from the top of her head to her toes. "Glad you made it 'cause you got some nice shoes there," he said to her when his eyes lingered on her feet.

"And a good shirt," another said. Her clothes were hand-me-downs that belonged to her brother, Robb. After hiding behind garbage cans and squirming her way into a train car, they were filthy, but compared to their ratty old rags, they might as well have been new and freshly washed.

"Oh, come on, now. We have to be generous and ready to share," the man took a step closer to her, and Arya thrust her dagger at him to make him move back a step. "At least, that's what the mission squawkers tell me," he chuckled, then the men around him joined in. "And I think it's time you shared."

What seemed like out of the darker area of the car came a large hand that wrapped around the man's wrist. He squeaked like a woman before looking up to see a man towering over him. "Wanna pick on someone your own size?" the man from nowhere said, and the man with the large knife shook his head, jaw nearly dragging the boxcar floor.

The larger man pushed the other, and he fell into his "friends" before all of them slithered back from where they came. The large man turned as though nothing happened and walked back into the shadows.

Now that she was out of immediate danger, Arya took the corner that put her at the opposite end of the car which happened to have the large man between them. She sat with the knees pulled close and her arms wrapped around them. The added energy and strength she got earlier seeped out of her until she was so tired she couldn't keep her eyes open. With everything she had left, she tried to stay awake because she didn't trust any of the men on the train, some less than others, but it was no use.

Daylight poured through the open door of the boxcar by the time Arya woke up, and the only one in there was her and the large man. Although now that she could see him in the daylight, he wasn't actually a large man but a very large boy. He was sitting on a bale of hay with his leg bent, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and his eyes closed.

"Are you sleep?" Arya called to him.

"If I were, I wouldn't be now, now would I?" he said to her without opening his eyes.

"Why'd you help me last night?" she asked, also half wondering if this was the same one that helped her. Although still large in size for a boy, he didn't seem as threatening.

"Was only a matter of time before they took your clothes and found out you're a girl. That's when they'd do other things that should never happen. Just wanted to nip it in the bud," he said, finally opening his eyes and looked at her.

Arya remembered what her brother and father did when they met new people, and she immediately stood up with all the confidence she could muster and walked to him, shoving her hand out to shake. "My name's Arya. Arya Stark." He looked at her hand as though it were a turd she'd offered, shook his head, rolled his eyes, and took a drag of his cigarette.

A little confused and a lot offended, Arya dropped her hand and stared at him. "What's with you?"

"If you're gonna' survive, kid, you're gonna have to learn a few things."

"Like what?" Arya asked, although with her rising resentment, she really didn't want to hear what he had to say.

"Well, for one thing, kid, no shaking hands and no tellin' people your full name. No one cares. You ride the rails for work and stay to yourself."

"Stop calling me kid," Arya turned her head away from him even as he chuckled.

"Sure thing, kid."

The boy was getting on her last nerve, and Arya was ready to kick him, but her head won over her temper. She had to learn what she could from him to get to her cousin. "So what else do I need to know?"

He worked his jaw for a moment in thought, then asked her, "Where you headed?"

"San Fransisco, California. It's where—"

The boy waved his hand, telling her to stop. "See, right there. I don't need or wanna' know all of that." He took another drag of his cigarette. "West. You're goin' west. That's all you need to tell anyone you come across."

Arya nodded, suddenly realizing that she really did need to learn about this if she were going to ride the rails all the way across country.

"What's your name?" she asked him, realizing that she knew nothing about him.

"Gendry."

"Gendry what?"

"Just Gendry." His brows creased, and he seemed to be thinking hard about something before he continued. "Look, kid, the rails ain't no place for girls, especially a girl like you."

Now she was completely offended, and her hands went straight to her hips as her mother and sister used to do when they were angry. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"Didn't mean anything by it, but look at you. Clean clothes, no street smarts, well fed. It's clear as day you have a family and a home to go back to. Someone like you hasn't seen the worst of people, and that's a good thing! Keep it that way, kid."

Arya wanted to stay angry with him; she wanted to hate him, but she couldn't. Deep down, she knew he meant well. And his words just reminded her of why she was on this train in the first place.

"I don't have a home anymore. My dad and brother were killed, and now I have to go to the only family I've go left…in California."

With all that he'd said before, she was expecting him to tell her he didn't care, that no one cared, but he turned to her. "I'm sorry, kid." Then he gave her a weak smile, "But at least you still got family. Right? It's more than some of us got."

Taking a seat on the boxcar floor, Arya pulled her knees close again and started to relax for the first time since before her father and brother were killed. She was sure enough that Gendry wasn't going to cut her throat for her shoes or do anything else to her. The rocking of the train started to feel soothing so she closed her eyes.

"Kid, the first mission you find, make sure you get your hair cut short. Pretend to be a boy and you'll be safer. Don't tell anyone that you're a girl."

She listened to him talk, and it was almost dreamlike as she drifted to sleep again. The last thing she heard was, "And look out for the bulls, rail cops. Sometimes they get rough."

A banging noise startled Arya awake. The boxcar was empty, and she heard more noises from outside. When she peeked out of the sliding door, several uniformed men went into boxcars, pushed out men, and beat them with their clubs. She hopped out of hers, and she heard a man's voice demand that she stop. She did the opposite and ran for her life, hoping it was the direction of the town and that she could find a good place to hide.

If you've found this story on a site other than AO3 or FF, it does not belong there. It's stolen and you should consider the owner of the site to be a thief and untrustworthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because "The Journey of Natty Gann" was a children's movie, I think they lightened a lot of the experiences and language in her life as a hobo. Since I'm merging the movie with ASOIAF, I'm not bound by that limitation.
> 
> I think you guys figured out that "ride the rails" means hobo'ing by train while there's also "going by hand" which means traveling on foot and hitchhiking.
> 
> Then we have the term "mission squawker" which is a preacher. Missions were formed to offer help for the exploding population of homeless, but only if they listened to a sermon from the preacher and/or prayed.
> 
> BTW, I did learn this nifty little bit of information. Although over time the words hobo and tramp were used interchangeably, they actually meant two different things. Hobos were people (mostly men) traveling the country for work. Tramps were people (mostly men) traveling without any desire to work. The way tramps got their necessities was mostly through stealing.
> 
> I hope I didn't forget anything and that you guys enjoyed this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> _Feed a muse. Leave a comment._


	3. Spearing Biscuits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who commented, kudo'd, and/or bookmarked this story.

The bulls stopped chasing her by the time she made it to the town center, which wasn't far from the train yard. Instead of the tall buildings she was used to in the city that could be several stories high, including the tallest building in the world, these were only one or two stories. And instead of several buildings clustered together on grid-like streets, these were along one long, wide main street with several very narrow side streets branching off of it.

There was a Hoover Wagon hitched to a pitiful looking horse and a couple of horses and buggies, but most of the people in the town center walked. The grocer, restocking the apples and grapes in their bins, caught her eye. They looked so good, and her stomach growled low and angry in agreement. It'd been almost a full day since the last time she ate, and even though she didn't want to steal, she didn't want to starve either.

When the man disappeared in the store, Arya walked by and tried to look as casual as she could, waiting until she was close enough to reach for a grape or two before running away with whatever she could grab. She walked so close to the bin, she barely had time to reach for them when a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled it up and the grapes fell to the ground.

"What do you think you're doing?" the grocer yelled at her, not really expecting her to answer him. Arya wrenched her arm free from his grasp.

"I'm really hungry, mister. Do you think you could spare—"

Not even letting her finish what she had to say, the man's face scrunched into a frown, and then his face turned a blotchy red. "Beat it, kid!"

"But I just need—"

"I said beat it! Or I'll call the cops!"

Arya didn't bother to see if the man would follow through with his threat; she ran across the street to put as much distance between her and the grocer as possible. She wasn't sure why the man was so angry. Even the grocers in New York, as grumpy as they were, would give a couple of grapes or an apple to a hungry child.

She decided to walk down one of the side streets, and to her right she noticed the back of the main street stores, which was nothing more than an open yard with a steep hill and garbage cans lining the back walls of the buildings.

A man came out of one of the back doors with a pot in his hands, walking to the garbage can nearest his door and poured whatever was in the pot into the can. When he turned around to go back inside, he caught Arya staring at him and frowned. He didn't move until she did, until she turned and walked back down the small side street. Little did he know, she didn't plan to go far.

As soon as she heard the sound of the back door open and close again, she backtracked and rushed to the garbage, constantly watching the door. Whatever the man poured into the can left its contents soggy, and she stood there looking down into it at the watery sludge of old food.

She didn't want to do it. Her stomach turned every time she thought about doing it, but to remind her of just how hungry she was, her stomach not only growled but rumbled.

Taking a deep breath before holding it, she reached in and grabbed the first thing she felt would hold solid long enough to pull out and eat. Just as she found something, she heard a commotion around the alley on the main street. There were cop whistles mingled with confused voices and screams and Arya saw a wolf trotting along the side street she'd come from, then stopped when it saw her. They both stared at each other, dumbfounded.

The voices grew louder from the main street into the side street, and she knew they were coming. Having no idea why she did it, Arya tried to shoo the wolf away, to go over the hill and out of the view of the people coming. The wolf just stood there as though it had no idea what she was saying until finally it turned and ran over the hill like she wanted.

"Hey, you! Kid!" a cop called to her a half minute later. "Did you see a wolf come by here?"

Arya nodded wide-eyed and tried to look shaken by the experience. "Yes, I did! It ran there!" she told them while pointing in the direction that wasn't where the wolf went, but they swallowed the story hook, line, and sinker.

The men were halfway across the yard when she allowed herself to relax again, but then the back door opened and the man that once held the pot came out again. "You!" he called out. "Git!" he said to her, dropping the sack he was carrying outside and lifted his arm. His hand was ready to smack her, but she didn't give him the chance.

With whatever lump she grabbed from the can, she ran back to the side street all the way to the main street, and only when she was sure there was no one following her, she stopped and checked the lump in her had, her prize from the garbage.

It was an old, stale biscuit that had been softened by whatever was poured over it. She closed her eyes and willed herself to open her mouth and lay the thing on her tongue. It smelled like rot, and it tasted only a little better. By the time it hit her stomach, she heaved. It took everything she had in her to keep it down. Rotten food was better than nothing.

About a mile down the main road, it branched off into three smaller roads, and at the intersection was a sign that read "The Helping Hand Mission." An arrow on the sign pointed to one of the smaller roads, and that was the road Arya decided to walk down.

Gendry did tell her to get her hair cut at one of the missions, and she hoped they would have some food for her, too.

"Well, aren't you a sore sight," the mission worker, an old woman with a tight gray bun and crows-feet around the eyes, said while snapping a blanket in the air when she saw Arya.

"Hello," she said to the woman in her cheeriest voice and biggest smile. Her father always told her that people were nicer to a smiling face than a frowning one. "Do you think I could get a haircut, and if you can spare it, some food?"

The woman sized her up then finally said, "Why sure I can cut your hair, little lamb. You're in desperate need of a haircut. You look like a girl with all that hair clear down to your shoulders, but I can't help you with the food. Gave out our last can an hour ago."

Even with her stomach rumbling in protest and her spirits low, Arya forced the biggest smile she could for the woman. "That's okay. I need the hair cut more than the food anyway," she lied.

The woman didn't seem to believe her any more than her stomach did.

Are you reading this story on a site that's not AO3 or FF? It doesn't belong there. It was stolen & the owner of the site is a thief and untrustworthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spearing biscuits means to search the garbage for food.
> 
> Hoover Wagons were cars that had their engines (as well as other heavy parts) removed to be hitched to a horse and used as a horse-drawn carriage. Before the Great Depression, many people were able to buy cars, but during the Depression, fuel was unaffordable and they didn't want their expensive purchase collecting dust.
> 
>  
> 
> _When you leave a comment, a fanfic fairy gets her wings._


	4. Hooverville

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who commented, kudo'd, and/or bookmarked this story.

With her hair newly cut and her stomach still growling, Arya followed the mission worker's advice and continued down the road into the shantytown.

A sign had been painted and hung over the first shack that read "Hooverville." There were more people in it than in the town center, with shacks clustered together made of wood and tin. They were so shabby that a strong wind could knock them all down, and in the clearings between shelters were several fires.

Small children played, chasing each other as they weaved around the fires and shelters while so many old people huddled together for more comfort than warmth around those fires. With sad faces, they pulled their tattered clothes around them tighter against the chill.

At one of the fires, she saw a can of beans heating. Everyone here was hungry, and stealing from people just as hungry as her went against everything she believed in, but the soggy biscuit did very little for her stomach and she was so desperate for food she couldn't talk herself out of it. With a glance around to see that no one was looking her way, she lunged for the can only to be stopped and held in her place by her shoulders by someone in back of her.

"You could get killed for less," someone said to her, but it wasn't just someone. Arya turned and saw the boy who'd helped her on the train. "Gendry?"

"Arya?" he said, then took a good look at her with her shorter hair and must have remembered his advice to her to hide being a girl. He looked around, and Arya thought she saw a hint of red in his cheeks. She shrugged herself free and brushed herself off. "It's Harry, thank you very much."

His embarrassment smoothed into a warm smile, and Arya felt her stomach again, but it was different this time. It didn't grumble and growl at her, but it tightened and fluttered and her skin suddenly felt hot.

"Well, Harry, you must be hungry. The mission ran out of food an hour ago, but I was able to get the last can of Spam," he said to her as she turned and walked with his head turned in her direction as though he expected her to follow. She did.

"I'm glad you made it past the bulls. I figured if you could get yourself on the train, you could get yourself out of the bulls' clutches, too." Gendry pulled a can from the side of the fire and handed it to her.

"Do you have a spoon?" he asked, and she shook her head. Without warning, he pulled a spoon from his pants pocket and tossed it to her. She wasn't expecting it and fumbled to catch it. "Keep it, kid. And don't lose it. Everyone uses their own spoon."

Before taking a scoop of the canned meat with it, she wiped the spoon on the side of her shirt. The creamy meat was at least better than the lump of a biscuit she got from the garbage.

A group of boys and girls passed through the shantytown, and the lead boy with blond hair and dark blue eyes stopped to look at Arya and Gendry. "Hey, you two. Want something to eat better than that crap?"

Arya stopped in mid-chew, wondering what he had to offer.

"Look, me and my friends here have a set up with stew and bread, enough to fill both of you up. You're welcome to join us."

By the time he finished saying what he had to say, Arya had already put the can down and was ready to stand when Gendry grabbed her wrist. He shook his head, warning her not to go, but the prospect of having her stomach filled was enough to ignore his warning.

"Come on, Gendry. Come with me." She tried to coax him but Gendry wouldn't budge.

"Suit yourself," she said to him before thanking him for the spoonful of Spam and said her goodbye, then left with the group.

As she walked with the group of children out of the shantytown, the lead boy's arm around her shoulders trying to earn her trust and friendship, somewhere nearby, Arya thought she heard someone scream, "Wolf!"

* * *

Following the band of children to the edge of the town center, Arya was surprised to see more children hiding in the abandoned store they called home. She'd walked with six children from the shantytown, but there had to be at least twenty in the store ranging from barely walking on their own to around eighteen or nineteen, and all congregated in the large store room.

One of the children younger than Arya brought her a bowl of whatever was in the pot when the leader named Ned clucked his tongue and nodded toward the food then to Arya. As soon as the warm bowl hit her fingers, she grabbed her spoon from her pocket and dove into it without so much as a thank you. She was hungry, and the scoop of Spam and soggy old biscuit were forgotten with the hearty warmth of meat and potatoes to fill her stomach. She didn't want to ask what the meat was, and honestly, she didn't care.

"So, I didn't get your name," the boy in charge said to her and all eyes were on her waiting for her response. It took a moment for her to swallow the mouthful of stew before she could.

"Harry."

"Aw, come on now. You don't have to pretend. No one's going hurt you here," Ned said. Even though he was only encouraging her to let down her guard, she winced. She knew the reason why Gendry told her to pretend to be a boy, still, talking about it directly gave her chills. Softly, nervously, she said her real name, "Arya."

"That's better." He gave her a relaxed smile as he slid into his upholstered chair with its cushioning escaping from all of the holes it had. "What's your story?"

"Trying to go west," she said, but he eyed her. "Go on."

Arya took another spoonful before she spoke again. "My dad and brother died," she told them, choosing to use the word "died" rather than "killed" then finished with, "and I'm trying to get to my cousin in California."

"Aw, kid. How do you know your cousin'll even take you in?" Ned asked her. Then another boy, one from the original group she'd met, added, "Family ain't what it used to be. Parents don't even stay nowadays. Mine didn't, so what makes you think a cousin's gonna take in an orphan?"

"My cousin loves me," she said, and half the room laughed. Her patience was wearing thin with them, and she was starting to wonder if she made the right decision leaving Gendry.

Ned must have seen it on her face because he piped up over the laughter, "We meant nothing by it. All of us here were abandoned if not orphaned. We know firsthand what it's like to have cousins, aunts, uncles, parents decide they can only feed them and theirs, and we don't count as theirs."

"Yeah," another boy chimed in. "Me and my old man lost our jobs, and he was able to get one in Washington, but there was only one. The next morning, he was gone. Not even a 'so long.'"

This time a girl, definitely younger than Arya, spoke up. "My dad died when he lost too much blood from having his hand chopped off in a factory accident. It was only me and my ma scraping by. So when she died two years ago, I begged my aunt and uncle to take me in. They said they already had four kids of their own, and they couldn't afford to feed not even one more. Told me to go to the orphanage, but then told me if that didn't work 'cause they tend to be filled up, go to the cathouse in town. They're always looking for new girls."

At that moment, Arya almost lost the stew in her stomach. The girl was younger than her, couldn't have been older than twelve, and that was two years ago. Her stomach lurched again.

"It's okay," Ned told her. "We're her family now. This…" he said as he opened his arms gesturing toward everyone in the room, "is our family. So whadda you say? You wanna go tramping with us? Be a part of our family?"

Arya just stared at him. What she wanted was to go to her cousin in California, but she wondered if these kids were right, if she was just going to burden him with another mouth to feed. The last news she'd heard about him, he was getting hitched. He probably had a family of his own by now.

"What do I have to do?" she asked, and the boy smiled widely.

"We all carry our own weight around here, and once you get the hang of it, you'll be alright."

Arya shrugged and finished her bowl of stew.

* * *

The sun had gone down hours ago, and it was most likely around midnight when six boys, including Ned, and two older girls were with Arya wedged into the narrow gap between two buildings that could barely be called an alley. They were waiting for something, and Ned peeked around the building every so often, looking for something. When he hissed a sound then tilted his head toward the street before he left, Arya took in a deep breath and followed the rest out of the alley and into the deserted main street. They all followed him towards the storage building that was their target.

"What's in there?" Arya asked, and Ned smiled smugly as he looked at the door of the building. "It's where they keep the booze. City folk have their rules and regulations, but a lot of times, they stash extra in small towns to dodge 'em."

Arya blinked at the thought that they were going to steal booze. "Shouldn't we steal what we need? Food?"

"Are you a nitwit? Wise up, kid," said one of the boys. She didn't like being called a kid, she liked it less when Gendry called her that, but after being called a nitwit, she liked it even less from this boy's mouth. Without giving much thought about how they were on the empty main street late at night and it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, Arya balled her fist and punched the jackass square in the face. He was stunned for a second, holding his nose, but then lunged at Arya.

Ned grabbed him before he could get to her, and told the both of them, "Quit it! There's time to settle scores later, but right now we gotta' do this if we wanna eat."

The boy stopped trying to get to Arya, but eyed her while Ned explained, "Arya, we sell the booze, and the money we make gets us the food and other things we need."

She didn't like stealing, a grape or two here or apple there when very hungry was different, but this was real stealing and she didn't feel comfortable about it. But this was the way they survived, and if she was going to survive without Jon, then this was what she had to do.

Ned bent down and did something with the lock on the door. It clicked after a while, and then he stood and opened it. "Grab as much as you can carry," he said as though to the entire group, but Arya knew it was for her benefit. The other kids had been doing this far longer.

One of the older boys took a crowbar and opened several crates so that the other kids could start grabbing bottles when, by the third crate and Arya holding two bottles, a shot fired.

The boy with the crowbar fell, a puddle of blood seeping into the straw that lined the dirt floor when two men with guns held up came out of a back room. The remaining children ran out of the storage building, and Arya dropped the two bottles in her arms to follow. Another shot fired and she heard a whizzing noise and heat at her ear, then saw Ned ahead of her double over as he kept running.

By the time she made it out of the building, a meaty hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back, causing her to lose her balance and fall to the pavement. There were two men standing over her, and a third just inside the door with his arms wrapped around the struggling older girl, already heading back into the building.

"You'd be good for the cathouse in the city," one of the two men standing over Arya said, putting away his gun.

Someone punched the other man still holding his gun in the jaw, and his gun flew out of his hand and into dark alley between the storage building and an abandoned restaurant. Arya pulled herself into a crouch, unsure of who her rescuer was until she noticed the large build and boyish face. "Gendry?"

The men beat him easily. They were just as large as him and were two against one; it wasn't even close to a fair fight. Arya tried to jump on one of them, holding his punching arm back, but he flung her to the ground as though she were nothing. Her back hit the pavement and knocked the wind out of her, aching when she tried to move.

Gendry was on the ground, his face already swelling, and he wasn't moving by the time she stood up again. The man unholstered his gun and pointed it towards Gendry's head, ready to be done with him. Arya scrambled to get between the man's gun and Gendry. They wanted her for a cathouse to make money. She hoped they wouldn't shoot her to get to him if they thought they'd lose a new money-maker.

The man did hesitate, but then he repositioned the barrel to her head, and the next thing she saw were large jaws and even larger teeth clenched onto his hand. Arya didn't think about anything but the gun that fell to the ground, and she dived for it just as the other man did the same. She got to the gun first and pointed it at him and saw the wolf release the other man's hand and stood with her.

The one man cradled his punctured hand while the other watched her carefully, looking for a way to get the advantage. She held the gun on them steadily with one hand and nudged Gendry with the other. "You have to get up."

Gendry managed to pull himself up, barely, and he leaned on her. She juggled the gun in one hand while helping him with her other arm as the wolf stayed behind them, growling at the two men each time they dared to take a step in their direction. The last time Arya looked back, she saw the two men go back into the building, obviously having given up on the two of them. She didn't want to take any chances, so she turned down on one of the side streets and walked as quickly with Gendry as she could.

When they were on the edge of the shantytown, Arya heard the faint sounds of police sirens in the center of town. Arya tossed the gun in the garbage can against the mission wall and continued on to where Gendry had offered her a place to eat in shantytown earlier.

There were people still sitting by the fires, and as they passed by, many of them stared at her and Gendry and the wolf. Arya ignored them and continued to where he'd offered her the Spam and noticed that the shack near it hadn't been taken by someone else. She was afraid that she'd have nowhere to lay him down to recover. As the mission worker told her during her hair cut, the mission never seemed to have an empty bed.

The shack was small enough to lay down in one direction for no more than two people. She helped him sit on the dirt floor just as the wolf came into the shack and curled itself nearby. Arya realized that the wolf was in the spot where Gendry would have to lay his head. "If you don't move, I'm going to lay him right on you!" she said to the wolf, but it didn't budge. Arya followed through with her threat and laid Gendry down further until his head was on the wolf.

Still the wolf didn't move, but then she realized that the wolf made a soft pillow for him and smiled. "Smarty pants," she said to the wolf, but Gendry, very much out of it, grunted questioningly.

"Not you, silly. The wolf."

"Wolf?" he asked, barely able to speak. With his face as swollen as it was, she would never have been able to recognize him. She felt a flush of anger that she couldn't see his face under all that swelling, and realized that she had found it not so bad to look at. Even as she remembered the way he looked normally, her stomach twisted and her skin prickled with heat the way it did earlier that day. She didn't know what that meant, and she didn't like not knowing, so she pushed the thoughts out of her mind.

"Why'd you do it?" she whispered her question, half wondering if he could hear her or even answer if he could.

His eyes opened at that, but they were slivers between large, bulbous lids. "Someone had to look out for you. I wish someone had looked out for my ma like that."

It was the first time Gendry had even mentioned anything about himself to her.

"How'd you find me?"

He turned his head away from her, and she sighed, realizing he'd passed out. At least she thought he did until he answered, "I followed you. The people here told me those kids have been nothing but trouble since they came in. Got the town folk riled up."

Arya could see why. They stole to survive, and she was sure that would wear on a town quick.

"You should go, Arya. Ride the rails. It's only going to get colder and—"

She interrupted him because she knew exactly what time of year it was and how the weather was changing. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Winter's coming."

He nodded, and she could see the pain he was in just to do that. It didn't matter. He saved her. Twice. The least she could do was make sure he got well. "You're stuck with me," she said to him as his eyes closed and his breathing calmed.

Arya sat next to him with her knees pulled close to her and her head resting on them.

The sound of people half woke her up. She smelled beans and Spam heated near the fires outside along with heavier musky smells nearby. One she knew was wild and had to be the wolf's. The other smell made her think of Gendry.

Gendry!

Her eyes snapped open. She saw the span of his chest and felt it rise and fall underneath her head. Some time in the night in her sleep she'd curled up against him leaving her with her head on his chest and her leg across one of his. Her arm was draped over his middle, and as she moved away from him she felt the muscles underneath his clothes that only men that worked hard labor could get. He was strong, but she never thought he was that strong. The thought caused that twist in her stomach and flush in her skin, but this time she also felt a throb between her legs.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, having no idea what was going on with her, she was so thankful he was still asleep. Arya got up and was ready to leave the shack when the wolf looked up at her. She quickly held up her hand and whispered, "Stay."

She didn't really think the wolf would listen to her, would understand what her hand gesture and word meant, but the wolf did it. It wouldn't move from under Gendry's head, and she was relieved that Gendry would be able to sleep a little longer.

Outside, there was a woman who was just a little older than Gendry handing out fliers, mission fliers with prayers on them, and when she offered Arya a flier, Arya took it and asked her if she had any food.

"I'm sorry, but we don't have anymore. The last was given yesterday."

"Oh," Arya said as she stuffed her hands in her pockets with a slight pout from complete disappointment. If she was going to get Gendry better, she needed to get him food; he needed his strength to recover.

The woman looked at her carefully, stopping at the side of her head and her chest. Arya looked down to see blood on her shirt, Gendry's blood.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked, and Arya answered by simply shaking her head, then telling the woman to follow. When the woman saw Gendry on the ground, swollen with his dried blood on his face and shirt, the woman held her hand to her mouth.

"What happened?"

Arya could have told the truth, but would it help Gendry? She had to try and get something, anything, for Gendry, and if sympathy was the way to get it, she would do what she had to do. So she beckoned the woman to follow her and peek inside the shack to find a battered and beaten Gendry still asleep. "Some men beat him up to take what he had," she lied to the woman once they were well outside of the shack.

"Who is he to you?" the woman asked, and Arya hesitated. She could have said her brother, that would have gotten enough sympathy, but she couldn't bring herself to call him her brother. A brother meant something else that didn't fit how she saw Gendry. She could have said friend, but that would make them practically strangers with no sympathy given.

She landed on the only lie she could tell that would gain the most sympathy. "He's my husband," she told the woman. The woman looked at Arya warily. Suddenly, Arya remembered her short hair and tomboy clothes, so she stood up straight and tall, pushing her chest forward and into view. The woman checked her left hand for a ring and Arya lifted it up to show her there was none. "We had to get hitched quick 'cause…" She rubbed her stomach with her hand to finish the sentence because even she couldn't believe she was taking the lie this far and would have surely stumbled over the words. "We didn't have the money for a ring. We were married in a church by a preacher and everything, though."

The lies came easier and easier, and Arya didn't like it one bit. She promised herself that when she finally made it to Jon, she would never lie again.

Regardless, the woman gasped and fell for it.

"We don't have much left, but I'll get what I can for you, you poor dear."

The woman all but ran back to the mission. There was some guilt for the lies Arya told, but it was for a good cause; it was for Gendry.

The woman came back quickly with blankets, a bucket of water, lard and bread. "I'm so sorry we don't have more," she said as she set the blankets, food and bucket of water on the ground at the door to the shack.

Arya smiled and thanked her.

"You say your prayers, girl?"

"Every night," Arya lied again, knowing the woman wouldn't settle for anything less. The woman nodded, accepting the answer and pulled a roll of fliers from her pocket to start handing them out again.

Arya took the bread that the woman was nice enough to slice already, and smeared some lard onto one of them. She ate it quickly, knowing Gendry would wake up soon, and by the time she finished the second to last bite, she heard him shifting. After rinsing an empty can someone had tossed, she filled it with water, smeared another slice of bread with lard and hid the rest under the blankets to hide from roving eyes looking for something to steal.

At his side, she brought the can of water to his mouth and told him to sip. He could barely open his mouth, his swelling hadn't gone down during the night, so she had to dribble the water in. She dipped his slice of bread and lard in the water and put it in his mouth, hoping he could swallow without choking.

He could, and he did. Afterwards, he croaked, "Arya, why're you still here?"

"I told you I was staying."

"People don't always do what they say," he said weakly, barely able to move his lips to say the words.

"Shut up and rest."

If you've found this story on a site other than AO3 or FF, it does not belong there. It's stolen and you should consider the owner of the site to be a thief and untrustworthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shantytowns were makeshift towns for the homeless. There were so many homeless during the Great Depression that they would cluster into communities (safety in numbers). We still have these today, but they're smaller, less of them, and are typically called tent cities.
> 
> Because President Hoover believed that it was best to allow the economy to right itself with very little, if any, government intervention, and the situation only seemed to grow dire during his inaction, the increasing number of homeless called their shantytowns "Hooverville".
> 
> The people that hurt the most during the Great Depression were the children, women, and the elderly. Parents abandoned children, husbands abandoned wives (this was a problem because women were far less likely to find work than men), and children abandoned their elderly parents. People had to make hard choices in who they could feed and who they couldn't. My initial reaction to this was to really hate the people who abandoned someone, but then I thought about it. If you have two parents, three children (a teen, a child, and a nursing infant), and two grandparents with one slice of bread as a meal, who gets to eat? I would never want to have to make that choice.
> 
> Canned food was a staple for the homeless. You could travel with it, and the food was preserved practically forever until opened. I know for many areas in the US, Spam is a joke, but back then it wasn't. It was a hardy, protein packed meal compared to the other canned foods (tomatoes, potatoes, beans, etc.).
> 
> Hobos kept their own spoons. I'm not sure why. The only reason I could come up with was for sanitary purposes, but when you live that kind of life, does germs on a spoon matter?
> 
> There were gangs of children (safety in numbers) tramping all over the country.
> 
> The part about city folk stashing extra alcohol outside the city was my own insertion. I just figured that the underground, so used to having a limitless supply of alcohol (so long as they could hide it) would chafe under the regulations once prohibition ended.
> 
> Human trafficking became illegal earlier than 1935, but I'm guessing it didn't disappear, it just went underground. Especially since prostitution increased so much during the Great Depression.
> 
> Sorry if my rambling in the notes is getting lengthy. I'm actually learning a lot about this era that I didn't know before, and I find it fascinating. I'll try to slim the notes down some in future chapters. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Fanfic authors live on caffeine and comments. Please help feed a fanfic author today!_


	5. A Jane in the Coop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who commented, kudo'd, and/or bookmarked this story.

By the third day, the swelling had gone down, and the shape of Gendry’s face was almost back to the way it’d been albeit covered in raw shades of black and purple. By the beginning of the next week, Gendry was walking around as though nothing had happened to him, although his face told a different tale. He found odd jobs as a hand for the houses just outside of town. Arya didn’t have that kind of luck.

Even though she was dressed like a boy, no one would hire a little, “rail thin” boy when there was such a strong “man” beside her.

Often times, she found herself in the shantytown waiting for him to come back, and she didn’t like it one bit. Although, she had to admit to herself that she was relieved that the mission worker, the woman she lied to, continued to sneak her whatever she could…for the baby, and Gendry was nowhere to see it.

She felt guilty for the lie each time, and it wasn’t the best food, mostly lard or bacon grease and some bread, but when her stomach grumbled for food, something to fill their stomachs was more important than a good conscience. And what little money Gendry could earn didn’t have to buy food but could be saved to buy coats for the coming cold. The one night when the weather dipped down close to freezing was only a reminder that winter was coming.

Arya sat by the fire with the wolf laying by her side. It had a name now. _She_ had a name now. When they realized that the wolf was a female, Arya named her Nymeria from her favorite character in a bedtime story her father used to tell her. Gendry didn’t think it was a good idea to name a wolf, but Arya, as usual, didn’t listen to him.

The days were getting shorter and the sun was going down by the time Gendry joined her and Nymeria by the fire. He was so tired as he sat on the ground and rubbed his face with his hands. She wished she could help, work and carry her share, but she was small and didn’t impress anyone who needed a good, strong back.

“We’ll have enough for coats by tomorrow. We can head west then,” he said to her, then sighed.

“Do you want some bread and bacon grease?” she asked him. “The bread’s fresh.”

Gendry looked at her questioningly, “Fresh? How do you keep getting fresh bread?”

She could feel the heat in her cheeks and her neck. If she could help it, she would never tell him what she told the woman from the mission. And again she was thankful that he was always gone during the day when the woman handed out her fliers.

“Do you want some or not?” she asked him, hoping he would dropped it. Too tired to push for more from her, he did give up easily and nodded.

From her hiding place in the shack, she smeared some of the grease onto a slice of bread and gave it to him. She stared into the fire as he ate, and Arya’s mind drifted to what he’d said. They would have coats, and then they could leave. _They_ would leave. When had it become they instead of her? They never discussed it, and Arya wasn't going to push it. She liked the idea of traveling with Gendry, and strangely, it made her happy to know he liked the idea too.

Arya wrapped her arms around herself and continued to stare into the fire, her mind drifting with memories of her mother’s arms and her sister’s face. Memories of her little brothers’ laughter and how they played in the street with the other kids in the neighborhood. Memories of her father’s steady voice and her big brother’s grin. She tried to remember her cousin’s face, but she was having trouble with anything more than his grey eyes and brown hair.

In frustration, Arya looked away from the fire and her eyes landed on Gendry, who was licking the grease off of his fingers. She remembered how he protected her on the train and at the storage building. How he’d been beaten to a pulp…for her. She remembered that night after waking up to feel his strong body next to hers, and the heat rushed to her cheeks and neck and chest.

Sensing her eyes on him, he turned his attention to her. His eyes on her made Arya turned away and try to catch her breath. She was being a stupid girl like she remembered her sister to be, and Arya didn’t want to be a stupid girl so she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye.

What she wanted and what happened were two different things. She could still see his blue eyes in what was left of daylight and her body tingled, the breath she was trying to steady got away from her again, and she felt her stomach twist and turn.

Gendry’s brows dipped down in confusion. “You okay?”

His voice didn’t help any, so gentle and filled with concern. Her ears may have barely heard him, but her body did fully. It was like flame to gasoline sending her fully into her memory of the morning she woke up at the side of his strong body and his smell in her nose.

“Harry, are you alright?”

That time, her ears heard him, and she shook the memory out. “I was just remembering.”

He nodded sadly, probably thinking she was remembering the death of her father and brother, and she let him think that.

Gendry was the first to go to sleep right after the sun set fully, and when Arya and Nymeria went to bed, she slid in with Nymeria as her pillow, her back facing Gendry’s back, and very aware of his body so close to hers. But when she woke up the next morning, Gendry’s arm was draped over her waist and his face was at the nape of her neck with Nymeria under both of their heads. She could feel his soft, wispy breaths behind her ear, and his large arm holding her protectively. His body curved closely around hers, warming the back of her body.

But she also felt something else, something against her from his hips. It was a little uncomfortable so she shifted, and in turn Gendry pressed his hips, and whatever that was, into her with a contented moan.

She tried to figure out what it could be. They had gotten rid of the gun days ago, and he didn’t have much more to his name than the clothes on his back. Suddenly, she remembered the difference between boys and girls, but that didn’t make any sense. It was floppy; she’d seen boys pee before, her brothers, her friends, and they were always floppy, but what was against the back of her thigh wasn’t floppy at all.

Finally her curiosity got the better of her and Arya turned to see what it was. Her movement was enough to wake Gendry. Even though he was still groggy, he must have known what was going on because before she could turn fully and get a look, he took the blanket that was over them both and covered his pants at the hips.

“What’s that?” Arya asked while pointing.

His face was beet red mottled with the deep browns and blues of old bruises, which only made Arya more curious. “What’s what?” he answered with his own question as he sat up and turned his back to her. His head lifted and his eyes stared at the morning sky out of the one window in the shack near the ceiling, all the while holding the blanket firmly to his hips.

“What was that you pushed against me, Gendry?”

He turned to her, a little confused then a lot guilty. It didn’t seem like he could get any redder, but he did and turned back to the window. “Go and eat something, Arya.”

She folded her arms and dug in her heels, waiting for him to tell her what it was and why he was acting so funny.

“Get lost, Arya! I just wanna’ be alone!” he yelled, his voice booming in the small shelter.

He’d never raised his voice to her before, and even though she tried to hold it back, a tear welled and trickled down her cheek. Before he could see it, she stormed out of the shack, a confused Nymeria at her heels.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, Arya didn’t have a pocket watch to tell, Gendry came out of the shack and sat at the fire with her. Trying to ignore him, she stared at the fire while scratching Nymeria behind the ears. She was angry with him for making her cry like a girl, and hurt that he was hiding something from her. She thought they were past that.

“Arya, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m not having a good morning.”

“Okay,” she said, willing to give him another chance. “So what was it? What were you hiding?”

His face turned beet red again, and Arya prepared herself for more yelling when he just sighed and shook his head. He opened his mouth but nothing came out so he closed it again. He opened his mouth again, but it just hung there until he found his voice. “You had an older brother?” he asked her and she nodded. He was about to say more, but Nymeria started growling.

In the same direction, they heard people panicking, screaming for help, and Gendry pulled her close by the arm. “Get what’s left of the food. We gotta’ go.”

She didn’t hesitate to get the bread and grease wrapped in a blanket, and Arya was about to go back to where Gendry stood when she saw a car with several men hanging on the side of it with flaming bottles. “Fine, upstanding citizens,” Gendry muttered as he pushed Arya to the side. One of the men hopped off of the car and grabbed Gendry by the collar. Arya dropped the bundle of food and started to hit the man. Another man came from what seemed like nowhere and grabbed her, causing Nymeria to growl and nip at his hand trying to be careful not to hurt Arya.

“Holy cow, Dick, there’s a wolf! Shoot it and we can get a bounty.”

“Nymeria, run!” The wolf stopped her attack but didn’t move away either. “Go!” Arya screamed, and this time the wolf listened, running out of the shantytown.

No longer worried about Nymeria, Arya looked around to see more of them than there were shantytown dwellers left.

The man holding Gendry raised a broomstick to strike him when Arya yelled, “He’s just a boy!” She didn’t want to see him beaten again; she couldn’t. The man lowered his stick and took a good look at Gendry’s face. “You’re big for a boy.” Gendry only stared at the man.

* * *

They were taken to a large building just outside of town. It was an orphanage run by the two churches in the two towns it sat between. She’d been waiting for what seemed like hours before an old, bald man in a dress shirt and tie sat behind a desk and immediately started asking Arya questions. What’s your name? Where were you born? Where are your parents? Any family?

Arya gave him a fake name, Harry, and fake parents in New York City. She hoped he would let her go if he thought she had parents and was a boy, but she wasn’t that lucky. He told her that he would contact her parents and could only be released to them, and when the woman leaned down to whisper in his ear, his eyes darted to Arya’s chest before looking back at her face.

The next thing she knew, she was given a nightgown, clean underwear, and slippers, and shoved into a room with a washtub in the center of it. “Bathe,” the prune-faced woman said before giving her a push in the direction of the tub and slammed the door shut.

By the time Arya scrubbed herself clean and slipped on the cotton gown, the prune-faced woman opened the door, appraised Arya and nudged her head for her to follow the woman out of the small room, into the reception area and into a door that led to a large dorm.

Arya stood there with her clothes bundled under her arm; the dorm was filled with girls and all eyes on her. “You sleep there,” the prune-faced woman pointed to an empty bed then turned her attention to the entire room. “Bedtime.”

She didn’t like the woman at all, and as Arya walked down the aisle of beds she cursed the woman for taking her dagger. Her only comforts were that the woman paid for it with scratches and bruises and Arya knew her dagger wasn’t far; it was in the drawer of the woman’s desk just outside of the dorm room.

When she reached her bed, she tucked her bundled clothes under it and slipped underneath the scratchy wool blankets then took a look around. There were some girls sharing a bed, and Arya was thankful she didn’t have to do that.

Satisfied that all girls were where they should be, the prune-faced woman left the dorm and closed the door behind her. There was a hard click and immediately the girls around Arya sat up in their beds. The one girl closest to Arya turned to her and sneered as though she smelled something bad. “You look like a boy. You sure they put you in the right room?”

“Quit beating your gums when you don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Arya said back to her.

Another girl hopped off of her bed and walked directly to Arya, leaving another girl already sitting on the same bed and in a full conversation with someone else. The girl approached her and stuck out her hand in an offer to shake. Arya smirked, thinking of her first conversation with Gendry. When the girl realized Arya wouldn’t shake her hand, she pulled it back and continued on. “My name’s Willow Heddle, and that’s,” she pointed to an older girl still sitting on her bed, “my sister Jeyne. What’s your name?”

“Arya.”

The girl waited for Arya to say her last name, but when she didn’t, Willow shrugged. “Don’t worry. It’s not so bad here. At least it’s a warm place to stay and three meals, right?”

Arya turned away from the girl, not at all interested in what she had to say about this place because she didn’t want to be there for very long. She had a home waiting for her in California…at least, that’s what she hoped.

Several girls got up when Jeyne nudged her head in the direction of a door near the one the prune-faced woman had left through on the opposite side of the large room. All of them gathered there taking care not to make a noise that the prune-face could hear. The older girls went through the other door while the younger ones lingered outside of it. Willow, being somewhere around Arya’s age, was among the younger ones.

She closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, woken through the night by the sound of soft giggles.

The next morning was a rigid routine. They had to change into their own clothes and wash their gowns to hang on the clothesline outside one of the large room's windows, eat breakfast in an orderly fashion, and were finally released out into a fenced-in yard. She eyed the chain links and judged that she couldn’t climb them before being caught, so she put that thought out of her mind. She did notice that there seemed to be another fenced in yard separated from theirs by a chain link divide and wondered what the other yard was for.

Another woman was there to “greet” them and showed them where to stand for the morning exercise all the while a bunch of boys poured into the other yard, effectively answering her question. Arya couldn’t help but look over at the other side, hoping to see Gendry, but she couldn’t make out any faces with the distance and people in the way.

Exercise was followed by what the woman called “free time.” It was their time to socialize, but Arya had no interest in the girls around her. She went straight for the fence divide and searched the boys for black hair. One stood up and towered over the others with his wide body, black hair, and when he turned around, blue eyes.

“The new boy’s a dream,” one of the girls said with a sigh and Willow piped up, “A real dream. Those eyes…”

“Look at that thick black hair. And he’s a boy? Not a man? As big as he is?” Arya turned to see Willow’s sister, Jeyne, swoon after glancing his way and had had enough.

“Gendry!” she called to him while shaking the fence to get his attention. “Gendry!” At first, he looked around in confusion, then saw her and ran toward her. “Arya!”

Even though they were separated by the fence, it felt like a piece of her world was made right to be close to him again, so she didn’t notice the woman stalking toward her or the man to Gendry. They were both pulled by their ears away from the fence. She couldn’t hear what the man told Gendry, but it was probably something close to the scolding the woman gave her. “No shaking or touching the fence. You do that again and it’s the lock for you!”

With one last look at Arya, the woman returned to her perch at the top of the stairs to watch the girls who gathered around Arya with too many voices for her to tell what they were saying. Suddenly, Willow, pushed her way forward. “You know him?” Willow asked. “Is he your brother?”

Arya shook her head.

“You’re beau?” another girl asked as though she was afraid to know the answer to that question.

Arya shook her head again, and the girl smiled widely. All of the girls smiled widely, but Willow then seemed trouble by something. “He’s not your brother, not your beau, but you’re sweet on him, right?”

The words made Arya scrunch her nose in reaction. She wasn’t interested in boys that way. Sansa used to have lots of boys she was interested in and interested in her. And she always dreamily talked of kissing and hugging and taking walks alone.

Having spent so much time around boys, her brothers and her friends, she couldn’t see herself kissing one. That is, until Willow said, “Well, he’s sweet on you. He keeps looking over here, and he’s not looking at me!”

She couldn’t help herself. Turning in his direction wasn’t what she thought to do, but she couldn’t help herself. By the time she did, she caught Gendry turning away quickly. Was he sweet on her? Did he want to kiss her like the boys in her neighborhood wanted to kiss her sister?

That’s when her breathing raced ahead of her, and her heart felt like it was going to thump right out of her chest. Her skin got hot, and Willow smirked. “If he’s not your beau now, I bet he will be!”

Right at that moment, he looked up, and their eyes met. He gave her a slight, warm smile and she returned it all the while focusing on his lips, wondering what it would be like to kiss them.

At the top of the hill beyond their fenced in yards, Nymeria lifted her head and howled. Arya was saved from her thoughts of Gendry when she realized that her wolf was still with them.

* * *

After a lunch and more “free-time” in the yard spent with Gendry “at a respectable distance,” they returned to the dorm for a dinner under the prune-faced woman's beady eyes. And after that, they were told to change into their gowns, wash their personal clothes, and get in their beds.

Satisfied that all was as it should be, the prune face turned off the lights and left the dorm just as she’d done the night before. Again, the girls were sitting up in their beds and with the signal from Jeyne, they rushed to what Arya learned was the bathroom door, but this time Willow stayed behind and eyed Arya from her bed.

Arya was curious to know why the girls flocked to the bathroom at night, but since they didn’t let Jeyne’s sister in, she didn’t think they would let her in. So she walked over to Willow who perked at Arya’s new desire to be social. Willow smiled at her and patted the extra room on their bed for her to sit.

“What’s going on over there?” Arya asked as she sat down.

“There’s a vent in the bathroom that leads to a vent in the boys’ bathroom. Some of the girls use it to talk to boys, some use it to smooch. The older girls use it to do a lot more.”

The boys’ side. Arya jumped from the bed and raced across the dorm to the bathroom, Willow right behind her. Before she could cross the threshold of the door, she was stopped by the meaty hand of a large girl sitting in a chair beside the bathroom door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to talk to a friend,” Arya said to her, excited that Gendry was only a few steps away.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re new. You have to earn it with time.”

Willow reached for her shoulder, whispering, “the bigger girls always get their way.”

Arya couldn’t believe that Gendry was only a few steps away and this girl was all that stood between them. That they believed there was some rule in who could go in and who couldn’t. It didn’t help that the girl eyed Arya with an amused smile, smug that she did her job.

Arya balled her fist and punched the girl in her smirking mouth with the force she’d used with the boys back home. The girl yelped and fell out of her chair, covering her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. Jeyne came from the bathroom, and eyed the girl on the floor, then Arya with her balled fist, then Willow.

“I want to talk to my friend,” Arya demanded.

Jeyne took another look at Willow before resting her eyes on Arya again. “You’re too young. You sure you know what to do with a guy like that?”

Too young? A guy like that? Arya had no idea what Jeyne was talking about. All she knew was that she wanted to see her friend so she nodded. In answer, Jeyne shrugged and said, “Come on, kid.”

Arya walked into the crowded bathroom with Willow right behind her. There were more girls around the vent, but one in particular standing as guard. Jeyne stopped them and waited. When Arya tried to say something, Jeyne shushed her. The girl at the vent whispered into it, “Time’s up.” A half minute later, a girl came out of the vent, red faced and lips swollen. She had a dreamy look in her eyes as the girls around asked her questions in high pitched, excited voices.

“She’s next,” said Jeyne to the girl standing guard at the vent. The girls parted to allow Arya a way through, and she noticed a bunch of them talking to each other with their eyes on her while covering their mouths with their hands. She did manage to hear one of them say, “the big one”.

The girl guarding the vent looked up at Arya and asked, “His name?”

“Gendry,” she told her, and the girl called into the vent. “Gendry. Gendry’s next.” The girl put her ear toward the vent and listened, then nodded. Then she waved for Arya to go in.

The space was large enough for her to move easily, but when she saw Gendry cramped into his side, she felt badly. He didn’t seem to care when he saw her, twisting and crawling toward her. When they reached each other, he grabbed her and held her close, but then released her when he realized just how close.

“Are you alright?” they both asked each other at the same time and both chuckled.

As things quieted between them, Gendry turned toward the boy’s dorm and his cheeks and ears turned red. He then dropped his head, “I guess three meals is a lot better than what we had out there.”

She couldn’t think of it that way. She didn’t want to be in an orphanage for the rest of her childhood. She had to get to her cousin with the hope that he would take her in. She wanted family again. “I have to get to Jon, Gendry. I have to try and get to my cousin.”

“I figured,” he said to her in a voice that almost seemed sad.

“Hey.” She tried to get his attention, tried to level her eyes to his that were lowered to his hands in his lap. Finally, she asked, “You’re coming with me, right?”

He nodded solemnly, and she wondered if he really wanted to stay in this place. He was older, probably only had another year before they kicked him out as an adult. That wasn’t much security.

Just then, he dipped down and kissed her. His lips were on hers and when the confusion passed after a second, pure heat shot throughout her body, coming together into a flood of warmth between her legs. She didn’t like the things he could make her body do, so she shoved him and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Why’d you do that?”

He shrugged sadly, again not looking at her. She didn’t like this look on his face, and if she had to be honest with herself, she wanted that feeling of his lips on hers again. Without giving him warning, she grabbed his collar into her fist and pulled his face to hers. And as he looked at her, completely startled, she pressed her lips to his.

It felt so good to be close to him again, and even better to feel his lips against hers. If this was smooching, she could see why her sister wanted to do it so badly. As though she’d given him some sign that it was okay, he pulled her closer against him with his arms tightly wound around her, never breaking their kiss. If she had given him a sign, she wasn’t aware of it, but she didn’t mind it either.

Suddenly, he pulled away from her and turned toward the boy’s bathroom, his back to her. She was going to ask him what she did wrong in the kiss but heard a girl from her side hiss, “Time’s up!” She’d all but forgotten the world outside until then. Even though his back was turned to her, she saw his ears were a beet red. Her own felt hot and her lips tingled, already missing the feel of his.

“We’ll figure a way out of here,” he muttered as he crawled towards the boy’s bathroom.

Arya turned and crawled out of the vent into the girls’ bathroom. The girls around her gave her wide smiles and knowing and jealous looks. Willow rushed to help her out and took a good look at her as soon as she could stand, the girl’s eyes focusing on her lips. With a wide grin, she pulled Arya into the dorm room and said, “Yup. He’s your beau.”

There were girls clustered around her, waiting for something. Arya was about to yell at them when Willow spoke up. “Everyone wants to know what kind of guy he is and what he kisses like.”

Even Jeyne and the girl with her busted lip, swollen nose and cheek stood and waited, hoping for some gossip to go around. “We don’t mean nothin’ by it,” Willow tried to ease the situation. “It’s just that some of us don’t have beaus and want to hear what its like. Not to mention, I think we can all agree that that beau of yours is a real dream.”

A real dream? That’s what Sansa used to call boys she got giddy and stupid for, but Gendry? Then she though about how her mind wandered into something like a dream whenever she touched him or looked at him or smelled him. Oh, hells.

She felt that what was between her and Gendry should be private, and didn’t want to share it with any of them, but when Willow’s eyes shined with excitement and expectation, she decided she’d tell them some. After all, she wished she still had a sister to talk to about these strange things going on with her anyway.

“He’s friendly and strong,” she started, and the girls around her nodded at that. “He sticks up for the little guy, even when he has no reason to. The first time I met him, he stopped a bunch of men from bothering me. Never met him until then, but he did it.”

The girls swooned. Some even fanned themselves with their hands as their faces flushed and they flopped on the nearest bed, although, still listening to Arya.

“He even took a beating for me.” They were already attentive, but that perked their ears up more. “Really bad men, two as big as him, and he jumped in to help me. I’ll never forget that.” Arya was almost lost in the memory, thinking about when Gendry was beaten so badly, she didn’t know if he would recover. What would she have done if he didn’t? She couldn’t think about that, so she shook the thought out of her head and noticed the girls around her, all making a face Arya couldn’t quite place. Envy?

“So, how’s the smoochin’,” Willow asked her, and Arya felt the heat rush up her neck and into her cheeks and burning her ears.

“Soft. Gentle. It was really…” she could barely admit it to herself. Could she admit it to the girls? With a sigh, she decided she would. “Nice.”

“I knew it!” Willow cried.

“But it ended so quickly. He pushed me away and left like I did something wrong.”

Jeyne folded her arms across her chest. “Well, it’s obvious what happened.”

There was a huge difference in reaction from all of the girls in the dorm. Arya, Willow, and all the girls around their age looked confused while the older girls giggled behind their hands. “I did something wrong?” Arya asked Willow’s older sister.

“I was right. You're not ready for someone like him. He’s too old for you, little girl.” Jeyne shook her head and started to walk away when Arya rushed to grab her arm and hold her in place.

“What did I do wrong?”

“Tell her, Jeyne,” Willow grabbed hold of her sister’s other arm.

Jeyne rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. “He was excited. You know.”

Arya shook her head, and she and Willow looked at each other in confusion hoping the other had some idea. When they realized neither did, they looked at Jeyne again.

“When boys get excited, their peckers get hard as a rock. It means they want to do it.”

Willow gasped and held her hand to her mouth while Arya still had no idea what they were talking about. It was a strange thought that his pecker would get hard, but what was the “it” they were talking about? Willow turned to her, completely red faced, and said, “Birds and bees…what married people do.”

“But…” was all Arya could say. The thoughts were entering and leaving her mind faster than she could pin them down and she was lost. Suddenly, as though she had no control over her mouth, she asked so many questions that the older girls were trying to hold back their laughs.

“He wants to…with me? Does this mean he wants to marry me? Have kids with me? But he doesn’t seem to like it when it happens.”

“They can’t control it, but it seems, yeah, he does. I don’t think for marriage or kids or anything. It’s just that his body wants to do it.”

She was so confused, and the confusion only irritated her. Having had enough of that talk, she released Jeyne, turned and walked to her assigned bed. Without another word, she slipped underneath the blanket and closed her eyes, ignoring the looks from the girls in the dorm.

Even though they knew full well that she wasn’t sleeping, she pretended that she was all night. She wasn’t sure how much sleep she actually got, but it wasn’t much. Most of the night she tried not to think of Gendry, but instead think of a way out of the orphanage. There was a way, there had to be. And it was probably staring her in the face. She knew there had to be.

* * *

* * *

Arya sat on the ground waiting for their afternoon yard time to be over. She’d spent the entire day distancing herself from everyone for some peace and quiet to think. Her focus was to think of a way out, but her thoughts kept drifting to what Jeyne said about Gendry the night before. She tried not to think about it, but it wasn’t easy when he kept staring at her from the other side of the fence.

To get her thoughts back on track, she tried to remember everything that had happened when they brought her into the institution: what the people said, the furniture, the layout of the rooms. Still, nothing came to mind.

Girls were talking in groups, but they all looked her way from time to time, then glanced Gendry’s way. Whenever she caught them, she was sure they were wondering what someone as “dreamy” as Gendry saw in a horsefaced girl like her. When the boys kept eying her, she was sure they were thinking the same thing.

When Jeyne looked at her, it wasn’t the same as the others. She would look over at Arya, then Gendry, with the hard set of determination in her eyes.

Arya sighed at the thought of spending another night in the dorm, and another night with the girls flocking to the bathroom, to the vent. They were insufferable.

Then her mind slipped back to Gendry again. Would she go into the vent to see Gendry again?

She shook her head, hoping to shake him from her thoughts and utterly disgusted with herself. And still, she couldn't stop thinking about meeting him in the vent, as cramped and dirty with soot as it was, not to mention the grates at the bottom were uncomfortable to crawl over.

Dinner was just as frustrating. Willow and the girls talked around Arya as she stayed very quiet and very much alone in her thoughts. At one point she heard a girl say, “What’s with her?” and Willow answer, “Boy troubles.”

But she didn’t have boy troubles. Arya had “stuck in an orphanage and can’t get out” troubles.

“Well, I for one won’t like it when they keep the heat on at night during the hard freezes,” said a girl with mousy brown hair that curled into frizzy ringlets. “What are we going to do when we can’t talk to the boys?”

Arya had no desire to talk about boys or talk about meeting them in the vent. She didn’t want to talk about those girly things, even though she couldn’t help but think about them. There was, however, something the girl said in the conversation that distracted her.

After dinner, washing their clothes, and getting ready for lights out to bed, Arya pulled Willow aside. “Where does the vent go besides the boys' bathroom?”

The girl looked at Arya, completely confused, but then brightened as though she understood where she was going with her question.

“Goes down to the basement. It’s where they burn the wood for heat, but they stop at night to save firewood. That’s why they want us in bed at lights-out. When weather starts to freeze, they have to burn some. It’s why we can only meet the boys in the vent when the nights aren’t freezing.”

Willow smiled widely at Arya, “So don’t worry. There’s plenty of time before the first freeze.” After a few moments, Willow’s lips pursed and her brows dipped down. “But you weren’t asking for meeting your beau. You’re not thinking of leaving are you?”

Arya nodded.

“Why would you go and do a thing like that? You get three meals and a roof over your head.”

“I’ve got family. I have to get back to them.”

There was a sad look that crossed Willow’s face, then she nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

* * *

Arya stood in the bathroom with Willow and both waited for whoever it was in the vent to run out of time and come out. After several minutes, Jeyne appeared and stepped out of it.

“Jeyne?” Willow wondered aloud, at the same time the girl standing guard at the vent, Sarah, called into it. “Gendry, don’t leave. You’re next…again,” there was an audible gasp from Willow and Arya’s chest constricted. Jeyne just walked by them with her shoulders squared, her eyes focused straight ahead of her, and nothing to say to them.

Arya wanted to punch her in her pretty face, but she thought better of it. If Gendry preferred Jeyne, that was that. He made his decision. For a moment, she reconsidered telling him about her new plan. He could rot in the forsaken place with Jeyne. She was tempted, very tempted, but though she hated his guts, she hated the thought of being without him more. Her reasons why…she didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts.

He was already there waiting for her, as she knew, and he refused to look at her. It was just as well because she wasn’t sure she could look at him without the urge to punch him. Even as her hands balled up into tight fists, the muscles on her face tighten with what she knew was a frown and her jaw clenched tightly until her back teeth started to ache, she couldn’t blame him too much. Jeyne was older, around his age, and she was pretty. What could he really see in a horsefaced kid that looked more like a boy than a girl?

“Hey…Arya,” he muttered to her with a nervous sidelong glance in her direction before he pulled at the bottom of his nightshirt, trying to keep it from rising higher than his knee. "I hate nightshirts."

“I’ve found a way out,” she forced the words out in a rush, not in the mood for pleasantries. In fact, she wasn’t in the mood to stay in the vent with him much longer. He lifted his head up quickly. “Oh?”

She half expected him to not care, and something in her felt satisfied that he did, that he was interested.

“This vent,” she said as she patted it with her hand. She’d climbed over it before without a thought to it, but now just looking at it made her plan shape in her mind all the more. “It goes to the basement. Someone told me it does.”

He nodded and pulled at the nightshirt again.

“You don’t have to come with me. You can stay here…” the words trailed off because she didn’t want to say the rest, that he could stay with Jeyne, but she didn’t have to say anything because he was already shaking his head.

“No. I’m going with you.”

Arya bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling, she was still angry with him, but she was also relieved that he was going with her and not staying with Jeyne.

“So, what's your plan?” he asked her.

* * *

The next night, Arya didn’t wash her day clothes. Instead, she spread them across her bed underneath the blanket so that they were close but hidden when prune-face counted the girl in their beds.

This time when prune-face turned the lights off and locked the dorm door, none of the girls got up from their beds. With Jeyne’s support, the girls were told not to move a muscle until they were given the signal. Instead, Willow got up from her bed and walked to the door of the dorm as calm as could be until she pounded on it with her fists and cried, “Mrs. Lucas!”

The lock on the door clicked and the prune-faced woman swung the door open, then gruffly asked Willow, “What’s all the fuss?”

“It’s Jeyne, Mrs. Lucas! She’s not well.” If Arya didn’t know what was really happening, she would have believed Willow. The woman followed her inside the dorm and turned on the lights. With a quick glance around, Arya was sure the woman was quickly counting the girls before continuing to the bed.

Jeyne was doubled over, moaning very convincingly as prune-face stood over her asking questions with her back facing Arya. This was her chance. Arya slipped from her bed and tiptoed to the door, out of it, and to the woman’s desk just outside the large room. She remembered where her dagger was, so it was as simple as opening the drawer and taking it.

When she got back, prune-face was still hovered over a moaning Jeyne. “I’ll call for a doctor,” she said and turned toward the door where Arya stood. Arya was sure she’d be caught but was saved when Jeyne upchucked all over the floor at the side of her bed. Prune-face turned back to Jeyne, giving Arya time to sidestep to the bathroom door.

“There, there. Come with me,” prune-face’s expression softened considerably, only now believing Jeyne was really sick. Arya had to agree with her, wondering if Jeyne wasn’t faking.

By the time prune-face turned back toward the dorm door supporting Jeyne, Arya took a step forward as though she were coming from the bathroom, with her dagger hidden behind her back. “You there, girl!” prune-face called to her, and Arya froze in her spot.

“Go get some towels from the bathroom.” Arya nodded wide-eyed and released a breath she didn’t know she held. The woman hadn’t noticed a thing. She rushed into the bathroom, tucked her dagger into the large hamper, and grabbed all of the towels she could carry, bringing them out for prune-face and Jeyne.

“You girls,” prune-face said while pointing to Arya and Willow with her free hand, “clean that mess up while I take her to wait for the doctor.”

The two girls nodded and began cleaning as they watched her and Jeyne leave. When the door clicked shut and locked behind them, Willow dropped her towel on the floor and shooed Arya to continue with the plan. Arya rushed to her bed, practically tore off the nightgown and put her own clothes on. She rushed into the bathroom and straight for the hamper with Willow behind her. She then tucked the dagger into the waistband of her pants.

“Is Jeyne really sick?” Arya asked her. She didn’t like the girl, having to admit to herself that she was a little jealous, but she didn’t wish any harm either.

Willow smirked, “Convincing, isn’t she? She’ll be okay.”

Arya smiled, thankful that she didn’t punch Jeyne like she wanted. Maybe she would even forgive her. Someday. After many, many years.

It startled her when Willow hugged her tightly. So much so that it took a moment to accept the hug and wrap her arms around the girl.

“I’m going to miss you. I don’t have any friends here like you,” Willow whispered in her ear.

“When you leave this place, find me in California,” she said, but made sure not to include Jeyne. She was thankful for Jeyne's dedication in helping her out of the damned place, but that didn’t mean she wanted her anywhere near Gendry again.

“Sure thing,” Willow said as she pulled the vent door open. “And you be careful.”

Arya nodded and crawled into the vent. Gendry was already there waiting for her in his clothes and his nightshirt torn into a bundle. “What’s that?” she asked him, and he held it in front of him to give her a better look.

“I asked the fellas to save a little bit of their dinner for us to take. Just about every one of them pitched in. Great bunch of guys they are.”

Food. She didn’t think of that. And even though she was still annoyed with Gendry, it was one of the reasons why she was glad he was coming with her.

Without wasting time, or having to talk to him, she immediately went to work on the screws with her dagger, turning them until she could pry the grate free. It was smaller than the vent they were already in and looking down into it fully, she wondered if Gendry would fit. He must have had the same thought because he released a long breath.

Arya pushed herself off of the floor of the vent until she slid down into the other, falling feet first onto the top of a cold furnace. She tried to brush off the soot, but when she heard the bulky sound of Gendry sliding down, she hopped off quick.

Gendry did land on his feet like she did, but lost his balance and fell back on his ass, hard.

She would’ve laughed, but it was only a matter of time before someone realized that the two were gone. With the little dignity he had left, Gendry slid off of the furnace to stand next to her as they took in their surroundings.

There were several narrow windows and a flight of stairs leading to a door which was the first way she thought of to leave, but then reconsidered. Someone would surely catch them if they did go that way.

One of the windows was open and had a haphazard stack of wood leading all the way up it, probably where they dumped the wood into the basement. Arya immediately climbed it and made her way up to the window with Gendry behind her.

For the first time in almost a week, they were outside, at night, and not under the watchful eyes of the orphanage workers. Arya took a long breath and smiled, looking at Gendry who did the same. Unfortunately, they didn’t have more time than that to savor their freedom. An alarm in the building sounded and both quickly ran for the front fences which weren’t as high as the fences that enclosed and divided the boys’ and girls’ yards in the back.

Arya climbed with no problem, almost second nature from her life in the city, but Gendry lagged behind. His bulk slowed him down and caused the metal links to squeak and whine under his weight. She hopped to the ground on the other side and saw people running from the building towards them, and Gendry saw the same just before he chucked the cloth of food over the fence and she caught it.

“Gendry, hurry up!”

“Stop right there!” one of the people yelled at them by the time Gendry made it to the top. Just when Arya was feeling some sense of relief, his pant leg snagged on a frayed link, and he couldn’t swing his leg over.

“Arya, scram! Leave me!”

She knew she should have, that every moment she stayed meant she wouldn’t make it to California, but she couldn’t will her body to turn away or even her legs to move away from the fence. In fact, she did the opposite. Arya dropped the cloth of food on the ground and climbed up the fence to help him.

His pants were snagged good on the wire and there was nothing they could do to pull it free, so she pulled out her dagger and started to slice at it until it ripped free.

Both scaled down the fence, Gendry grabbed the food, and they raced into the wooded area nearby.

They didn’t stop until both were completely out of breath and Arya was sure there was no one following them. Both were hunched over, panting when there was a long howl from deeper within the forest. Arya hadn’t caught her breath fully, but that didn’t stop her. “Nymeria,” she rasped before sprinting into the darker end of the forest.

She heard Gendry’s heavy footfalls and breaths behind her as she came to an outcropping of stone with a wolf, Nymeria, standing on top of it. The wolf jumped down, bouncing from one point of the stone to the other until she made her way to the ground beside Arya who knelt down to wrap her arms around her fury companion.

“I’ve missed you, girl,” she said into the wolf’s fur.

The wolf stiffened when Gendry caught up with them. Her hackles raised and Gendry skidded to a stop. When Nymeria sniffed the air, Arya was sure she recognized his scent and relaxed into Arya’s arms. Gendry dropped to his knees on the ground, exhausted and panting and let the human and wolf have their reunion at a respectable distance.

If you've found this story on a site other than AO3 or FF, it does not belong there. It's stolen and you should consider the owner of the site to be a thief and untrustworthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually, there were no laws against Hoovervilles, but many people didn't like them near their towns/cities, especially since a lot of them attracted unsavory elements. As crime rose, people blamed the first group they could get their hands on.
> 
> Most orphanages were run by religious organizations, and they always had trouble with the amount of children they could help, but during the Great Depression, they were completely overwhelmed. So much so that the government had to step in and create some. Even then, there weren't enough beds. Often, children had to share beds.
> 
> Oops! I forgot to explain the title.  
> A Jane is a girl or woman (a Jack is a guy).  
> The Coop is an institution, usually jail, where people are locked up.
> 
> Each comment left is like a little piece of the puzzle. Let's finish the picture together. :)


	6. Living on Wind Pudding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may contain material that is uncomfortable for some. Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> A big thanks to everyone who commented, kudo'd, and/or bookmarked this story.

Although they stayed hidden in the tree line, the road from the orphanage led them to the outskirts of town sometime before dawn. They waited for the sun to come up so that they would know which train was heading west, or at least in the general direction. The one they had their eyes on was just starting to pull out of the yard, and the three ran for it.

Arya was the first to jump, reaching for the corner between the boxcar doors and the floor when Gendry gave her a push up that helped her pull herself in. Gendry almost effortlessly pulled himself up and into the boxcar at the same time Nymeria jumped in.

“Show off,” Gendry muttered.

They were exhausted, having not slept a wink through the night, so when Nymeria curled into a ball on the floor, Arya dropped down and cuddled close to her. There was some straw scattered around, but it wasn’t enough to cushion her body against the hard boxcar floor. At least there was no one in there with them to worry about cutting their throats in their sleep.

Gendry sank to the floor next to Arya and draped his arm over her to hold her close to him. It felt good and warm and safe to have him hold her, but her imagination got the better of her. Every time she drifted near sleep, the image of him holding Jeyne in the vent of the orphanage barged its way into her mind, waking her up.

She pushed his arm off of her and sat up. “You sleep over there!” she yelled at him while pointing to the opposite corner. She may not have wanted to be without him, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still angry with him.

“What?” was all he could think to say, confusion riddled all over his face.

Just in case he was having trouble remembering, Arya decided to jog his memory. “If you want warmth, you can sleep over there and think of Jeyne,” she huffed and buried her head back down into Nymeria’s thick fur.

“Jeyne?” he repeated the name, his mouth hung open as though he had something else to say but couldn’t. If he wanted to pretend or lie his way out of it, Arya wasn’t having any of it. She closed her eyes and ignored him.

When it was clear that she meant it, that she wanted him to sleep away from her and Nymeria, he growled, “Are you kidding?” At his wits end, he gathered the straw next to his hand and threw it at her, but she still ignored him. She listened to the rustling of him standing and the heavy padding of his shoes against the boxcar floor as he walked to the other side while grumbling, “Fine with me,” before settling in his spot.

If only having him at the other side of the boxcar helped her sleep, but it didn’t. Instead, she didn’t even have his comforting warmth as she imagined his lips pressed to Jeyne's.

By the morning, there was a change in the train’s sound and rocking rhythm enough to wake Arya. The train slowed and Gendry rushed to the door to peek his head out. Suddenly, he shifted to something outside towards the ground before he got up and rushed to Arya and Nymeria. Arya opened her mouth to protest as he sat next to her, to tell him to get back to his corner, but Gendry shushed her and muttered, “Two lane crossing. Train’s slowing enough for men to hop on.”

Just as he said it, a man appeared in her periphery at the boxcar door, hauling himself up and into it. They watched another man climb inside, and then another until there were four of them gathered at the opposite side.

For what felt like hours, Arya kept a wary eye on the men who watched them carefully. “They’re looking for any opportunity to take what we have,” Gendry told her. They didn’t have much, but the clothes on their backs and the little bit of food in their bundle was enough to get them killed.

By the time the sun was high overhead, Gendry pulled open the bundle of food wrapped in his ripped nightshirt. There were two biscuits, three fried chicken wings and an apple. They hadn’t eaten since dinner the night before, and Arya was so hungry, she could’ve eaten it all.

They sliced the apple in half with Arya’s knife and each had a chicken wing, including Nymeria. Even as they ate, Arya felt the eyes of the men on them. If they’d cut her throat for her shoes, what would they do for a meal?

Without having to talk much about it, Gendry and Arya agreed that they wouldn’t have another bite until the next morning to make the food last. So that night, they went to sleep hungry.

Out of necessity, Gendry slept next to her but didn’t touch her, and she could hear his stomach rumbling almost as loudly as her own. It took some effort, but she managed to fall asleep. Unfortunately, she dreamt of her entire family sitting at a table with her mother’s stew at the center of it.

Just before she was able to eat that spoonful of stew in her dream, something upset Nymeria. Her low growl deepened until Arya opened her eyes to see the four men halfway across the boxcar coming towards them. One of them had a knife, and Arya screamed, “Gendry!”

He woke up with a start and saw the men, immediately standing alongside Arya with Nymeria.

“We just want a nibble, boy,” one man said to Arya. That’s when a man with a knife and two others hurled themselves at Gendry while the fourth came at Arya.

The first thing Gendry did was grab the man’s knife hand and kept him from using the weapon, but the others were attacking him with punches and kicks. “Nymeria, help Gendry!” she said having whipped out her dagger and at a stand-off with the fourth man.

Behind her, Arya heard a growl, a snapping sound, then the cry of a man in pain. She turned back to see if it was Gendry, but it wasn’t. It was the man with the knife who was now cradling his chewed hand with what looked like a couple of fingers missing and his knife on the floor.

The distraction was enough for the fourth man to charge at Arya, and grasped her wrist, squeezing it until she couldn’t hold her dagger any longer. It fell to the floor with a clank, and the man slammed her against the wall of the boxcar, pinning her with his body.

Something puzzled him when he looked down between them, then when he looked up at her again, he had a smile spread across his face. “Ah, you’re a girl, huh?” he asked as he pressed his chest even tighter to hers and nuzzled his scruffy muzzle into the crook of her neck. The smell of his breath was worse than the smell of piss and shit in the boxcar. The more she struggled against him, the more he seemed to enjoy holding her, and there was nothing she could do. He may have been a skinny man, but he was stronger than her.

Suddenly, there were a couple of fingers tapping on his shoulder. When the man turned to see who was in back of him, a large fist crashed into his jaw, and he crumpled to the ground. It was then that she saw Gendry standing there with wild eyes kicking the man over and over. There was a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a cry that came from him, and for the first time, Arya felt a little fear of what her friend was capable of.

That fear was nothing compared to her need for the comfort of his arms as the weight of the situation fully hit her. She quickly grabbed her dagger from the floor and slammed her body into Gendry’s, wrapping her arms around him tightly. The force distracted him from attacking the man further.

He pushed her away from him slightly so that he could take her face in his hands to look at her. All of the rage she’d seen in his face melted away, and the Gendry she was used to was back. “Are you okay?” he asked, and she nodded. It was only when he released her face and pulled her into him, his arms tightly wrapped around her and her head against his strong chest that she allowed herself to close her eyes because she felt safe again. When she willed her eyes to open, she saw the four men around them with varying degrees of injury. Three of them, the ones who attacked Gendry, had bite marks, and she quietly thanked the wolf standing guard behind them.

The men skulked back to their side of the boxcar while Gendry ushered Arya to theirs with Nymeria, his arm around her shoulder protectively the whole way. The three didn’t curl up to sleep this time. Arya and Gendry slept sitting up, her head resting against his shoulder while Nymeria stood guard through the rest of the night.

Arya was the first to wake and called Nymeria to her. Gendry woke up and immediately opened the bundle of food. All they had left were the two biscuits. Arya and Gendry ate one each, feeding pieces to Nymeria as the men watched them. “We’ve got to get off the train, Arya,” Gendry said to her quietly. “We can’t stay when that man knows you’re a girl.”

She bit her lip, and he added, “And we don’t have any water or food, now.”

“But it’s going west. Due west!” she argued weakly. Deep down she knew he was right, but she held onto the hope of keeping their straight route to the west, all that much closer to California.

“If we stay on this train and die from lack of food or water or if they try to…,” then his face twisted into the same angry expression he’d had when the man touched her, and his voice caught in his throat for a second, “…the west won’t mean much to you then.”

Reluctantly, she nodded in agreement.

* * *

Late that night, sometime near dawn, the train stopped in a rail yard, and Gendry nudged her awake from her nap. It had been almost a full day since they had the biscuits with nothing else to fill their bellies, and Arya preferred to sleep rather than listen to their stomachs growl.

“Time to go,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder to wake her.

Nymeria was the first to hop down. Arya climbed down with Gendry right behind her. They didn’t have to rush with no bulls to chase them out, which was a good thing because Arya didn’t think she could outrun them with how tired she was. Although, they did keep a wary eye on the four men who remained in the boxcar until they were well out of sight.

There was only one road leading out of the rail yard, and they followed it hoping to get to the nearby town when they came to a fork in the road. Arya chose which one to follow, unfortunately, it didn’t lead to a town. Sometime around noon they found themselves at a farmhouse.

“Mayhaps they have some food we can work for,” Gendry muttered, completely lacking conviction. There were few farms that could afford to feed themselves much less other mouths.

A few more steps in the direction of the house and Nymeria ran away from them and across the hilly field with some trees to give her cover. Arya was about to chase after her but Gendry’s arm dropped down to stop her. “Let her go. If there’s nothing here for us, then we’ll catch up to her.”

Arya was about to argue with him, to tell him that she didn’t want to lose her, but the heavy footsteps of a man standing on the porch with a shotgun distracted her. He pointed it at them, and they raised their hands to show him they meant to harm. He didn’t seem to to believe them.

“Oh, Theo,” said a feminine voice from inside the house, “they’re half starved. Let them be.”

“See the size of that one?” the man asked her as he motioned his gun in Gendry’s direction.

“Look at his face. He’s just a boy. Can’t help the gods made him tall and bulky.” At the words, the man lowered his gun after taking a long look at Gendry’s face. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen, ser.” It was the first time Arya knew for sure how old he was, having only guessed. She never asked, and he never said.

“What do you two want?” the man grunted out his question.

“Some food, ser,” Arya said. “We’re willing to work for it.”

The man huffed, then lowered his gun to rub the stubble at his jaw. “I could use the big one there, but not sure how I could use a scrawny boy like you.”

“Theo, that’s not a boy. Look at her. Did you hear her voice?” The man now studied Arya from her toes to the top of her head. “I could use a girl’s help in the house,” the woman added.

“Fine,” the man dropped the end of the barrel to the splintered and grayed floorboard of the porch and leaned on the butt of it before motioning with his head for them to follow who Arya could only guess was his wife into the house.

“I’m Revella, Revella Smallwood, and this,” she gestured to the man following them inside the house to return his shotgun to a rack on the wall, “is my husband, Theomar.” She pulled out two chairs from the table in the kitchen, and Arya and Gendry sat in them as the woman busied herself with gathering food for them to eat. The man sat gruffly in a third chair at the table and kept a steady eye on Arya.

“Why you dressed like a boy, girl?”

“Because it’s safer,” she answered before taking a large bite of the chicken sandwich Mrs. Smallwood had given her. He responded with a gruff grunt and tipped his head toward a door with his eyes on his wife.

Without question, she walked to it and both disappeared into the next room with the door closed behind them. Gendry looked at her and smiled. “This is better than we could’ve ever hoped for,” he said as he waved the sandwich a little before taking another bite.

“Yeah,” Arya agreed half-heartedly. She wished she could feel as comfortable with the food as he did, but she didn’t like not having Nymeria with them, and Mr. Smallwood’s eyes made her uneasy.

* * *

Both men were outside working while Mrs. Smallwood peeled potatoes for their dinner. Arya was tasked with the dishes from her lunch with Gendry. All the while, she tried not to but couldn’t help stealing glances out of the kitchen window to watch Gendry work. She knew he was strong, but watching him work was a thing of beauty.

He’d taken his shirt off after helping Mr. Smallwood hitch the team of horses to the plow. At that moment, he was shoveling the manure out of the horse stalls, and with each scoop his stomach muscles tightened, curves clearly defined, and the muscles of his arms strained and flexed. Arya’s stomach flipped and turned and fluttered with them. The sweat trickled down his body, allowing his exposed skin to glisten under the afternoon sun.

“Is he your beau?” Mrs. Smallwood asked her with a gentle smile, and Arya realized she’d been holding the same dish for several minutes while staring. Heat immediately rushed up her neck and into her cheeks. She could only look at the woman open mouthed as she shook her head.

Mrs. Smallwood glanced out of the window once more before giving her another look. “Tell me, girl, do you get your monthlies yet?”

Arya frowned at that, having no idea what the woman was talking about.

“Your ma never told you about the birds and the bees, girl?”

“My ma died a couple of years ago,” Arya said and didn’t like the look of pity the woman gave her, “but I know some. I know that it’s something married people do.”

The woman smiled to herself then cleared her throat. “Come sit here, girl. Those dishes can wait, but looking at you,” the woman eyed Arya from head to toe, “I don’t think this talk can.”

Arya’s frown deepened as she placed the second to last unwashed dish in the sink, the dishcloth on the side of the sink, and sat down with the woman at the table.

Mrs. Smallwood talked to her of bleeding every month as a sign of womanhood, a sign of being able to have babies. Arya’s nose scrunched. She’d always wished she was a boy like her brothers, but she suddenly wished it even more. “Seven hells! Does it have to happen to all girls?”

The woman seemed uncomfortable with her language, but after a shift in her seat and clearing her throat, Mrs. Smallwood answered, “Yes.” Even as Mrs. Smallwood continued to talk, Arya was sure that when this thing happened to her, her life would be over.

She explained in greater detail the things that Jeyne had told her: how peckers got hard when boys got excited, but when she described what they did with them, what had to be done to create a baby, Arya scrunched her nose again at that.

“Why would anyone want to have a baby, then?” she asked the woman as though it were the most reasonable question. “I didn’t want to have babies before, but I sure as hells don’t want them now!” she told the woman while folding her arms in firm resolution.

“We’ll see about that, girl,” the woman said before she glanced at the window one last time. “Just know that it won't be very good at first, but it gets better.”

Arya looked away, arms still folded and her mind completely made up. She was never going to do that and was ready for the conversation to end. However, her curiosity got the better of her.

“Does it make a baby every time?” Arya asked Mrs. Smallwood, not daring to look the woman in the eye, so she didn’t see when she shook her head.

“No, but it’s a gamble each time. That’s why it’s best done between a husband and wife. When a woman has a baby with no husband, people think badly of her, look down on her and the child.”

Arya suddenly remembered her cousin. He didn’t have a father around. Arya never really thought much about her Aunt Lyanna, but when she couldn’t stop herself from glancing through the window at a shirtless Gendry with a wild desire to touch the slick skin and hard muscle underneath, she wondered if it was what had happened to her aunt. She knew people often spoke in hushed voices when her aunt and cousin were around, so she wondered if that was the reason why her cousin left for California and changed his name.

The thoughts started to make a pattern in her mind, and all she could think of was what Mrs. Smallwood told her. “I’m never going to get married, and I’m never going to have babies.”

The woman exhaled deeply then said to her, “Girl, sometimes you don’t know what you want until you have it.”

That made no sense to Arya whatsoever, but she was thankful when the woman changed the subject. “So you’ve been hopping trains trying to get to California, to get back with your family?”

Arya nodded.

“And the boy? Does he have family in California?”

“No. He’s helping me.”

“Why?”

Arya shrugged at that. The problem was, she didn’t know why Gendry chose to help her get back to her family.

“Oh, girl. It’s okay. Things will get clear in time.” The corner of the woman’s lips twitched upward for a moment before she told Arya to finish the dishes.

While Arya helped Mrs. Smallwood with the stew, dropping the green beans and carrots into the pot, she decided it was as good a time as any to ask. “Do you know of any people around here that need a hand? Gendry and I need to save money for coats. The weather’s getting colder and we won’t last much longer like this.” She gestured with her free hand to her clothes.

“Well, no one around here has any money to hire anyone. Sharing what we have is the best you’re going to get in these parts, but wait one minute,” she told Arya before walking away and leaving the kitchen. When she returned, she held two old coats up for Arya to see.

“Will these do?”

Arya rushed to the woman and took the smaller coat. It was old and in need of patching, but it fit her like a glove. “It was mine before having Carrie, my daughter, changed my body,” she told Arya shyly. “But that’s what happens.”

She took the other coat and held it up, spreading it out to see how wide it was. Gendry was not small, not for a boy and not even for a man, but the coat looked wide enough to fit him. Arya gave Mrs. Smallwood a questioning look, remembering how slim Theomar was.

“It was my papa’s coat. He used to live with us, but he died last winter.”

Arya could only nod her condolence. She understood what it was like, but in that moment, she felt a kinship with the woman and hugged her tightly, remembering her mother and her sister and her father and brothers. This woman was kind when she didn’t have to be, and for that, Arya was thankful.

After that, Mrs. Smallwood lifted something else that had been draped across her arm. “And this should fit you.”

Judging by the length and the cut, Arya knew exactly what it was, and her nose wrinkled. “A dress?”

“Theo doesn’t think it’s proper for a girl to walk around like a boy,” she said as she held the damned thing up and shook it. Arya didn’t wear dresses with her family, and now these people, that man, expected her to? “This should fit you. It was my daughter’s dress long before she moved out and got married.”

Arya wanted to tell her to put the dress back into the closet or cram it down her husband’s throat, but the Smallwoods were nice enough to give them a meal and a place to sleep, so she took the dress.

After removing own clothes, she was prepared to slip on the dress, but Mrs. Smallwood handed her a bundle of thin cotton material. After unfolding them, to add to her humiliation, Arya realized they were bloomers and a slip Mrs. Smallwood called a chemise.

With the dress on over the under garments, Arya noticed a bulge in the pocket of the dress and dipped her hand into it. What she found was the strangest thing: a handful of acorns.

“Carrie always did love to collect them.”

* * *

The living room of the house was quiet as a mouse sometime in the middle of the night, but Arya couldn’t sleep because it was too quiet. She’d lived most of her life in the city with its constant noises night and day, and the shantytown wasn’t much different. The trains had their own constant noise and rocking to lull her to sleep, and the orphanage had the constant chatter or snoring from the other girls. Absolute quiet was making her nuts.

She squirmed on the old sofa, trying to find a more comfortable position—as though that would help her sleep—and covered her eyes with her forearm.

Somewhere deep down, she had to also admit that Gendry was another reason for her lack of sleep. After he and Mr. Smallwood came in long after sunset, Mrs. Smallwood asked her to serve them their supper. Already self-conscious about the dress she had to wear, it didn’t help that Gendry stared at her while Mr. Smallwood just nodded in her direction and grunted his approval.

A few minutes later, Gendry chuckled and dived into his stew.

She then asked him, “What’s so funny?” and he shook his head.

“Nothing. Just never seen you in a dress before.” At that very moment, Arya wanted to call him a jack-ass but thought better of it. She didn’t want to offend the Smallwoods. Instead, she took a deep breath to try to calm her rising anger and turned to leave the kitchen when she heard him say very softly, “You look pretty.”

He was a liar! But even as she thought it, even as she knew she’d never compare to pretty Jeyne, she couldn’t stop the rush of blood to her cheeks or the sudden thumping in her chest.

He preferred Jeyne types; him meeting Jeyne in the vent before they left the orphanage was proof of that. Although, he did leave with her and hadn't stayed with Jeyne. But he had pushed her away when they kissed.

Arya rubbed her eyes with her fists and sighed. There was one thing she was certain of: he confused her to no end!

Somewhere in the dark of the living room, there was a creak on the floor and Arya whispered as loudly as she could without making too much noise. “Gendry?” He wasn’t suppose to be in the house. Mr. Smallwood told them he didn’t like the idea of an unmarried, unrelated couple under the same roof, so he sent Gendry to the barn to sleep.

“Were you cold out there?” she asked him, but he only shushed her before laying a hand on her shoulder from behind. There was something in his hand, and she couldn’t figure out what it was until he was forcing it into her mouth followed by a cloth that he wrapped around her head to secure the rag he put in her mouth.

Holding the cloth around her head, she couldn’t sit up. Gagged, she couldn’t scream, but she clawed at whatever she could reach and hoped his eyes were somewhere close. His hand wrapped around her throat tightly, and every time she tried to claw him, he tightened around her even more.

“Quit your squirming, girl.” It was Mr. Smallwood's voice that hissed at her as though he were having trouble keeping his voice down.

Her dagger was with her folded clothes at the other side of the room and there was nothing with weight around her that she could reach for as he maneuvered his body around the couch to her side. She kicked at him wildly, but his hand at her throat only tightened more until she felt consciousness slipping, and she couldn’t let that happen.

With nothing else to do, she went limp, and he climbed on top of her, his free hand roamed from her chest and slid down until it slipped under the chemise. The feel of his calloused and cracked hand on her skin made her want to vomit her dinner.

In what little moonlight there was from the window, she could clearly see his face, so she let her arm drop to the side to make it seem like a sign that she wouldn’t put up a fight. She then balled her hand into a fist and aimed for his eye. He saw it coming and turned, pulling his face up, but it hit him in the chin. Regardless, it had the effect she’d hoped for. He pulled away from her, his hand releasing her throat, and squatted on his knees on the sofa.

Arya took that opportunity to lift her knee up hard and into his crotch. It was enough that he fell off of the sofa and onto the floor with a loud thud. Without hesitation, she pulled the cloth from around her head and pulled out the rag from her mouth.

At that point she screamed incoherently as she pulled her leg back and kicked him hard in his side, and then again until he slumped completely down on the floor. She didn’t stop, constantly aiming for his crotch while she remembered what Mrs. Smallwood had told her and what the man tried to do to her.

Mrs. Smallwood came out from her bedroom with her oil lamp.

“Theo?” she called out, eyes adjusting in the dark. Mr. Smallwood responded with a moan in the shadow of the floor.

Gendry had come into the house from the door in the kitchen and found the same sight as Mrs. Smallwood: Arya standing over a curled up Mr. Smallwood, him holding his side with one hand and his crotch with the other.

“Arya, what happened?” She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t think she had to when his eyes stopped at her neck. She knew it had to be red from the way Mr. Smallwood gripped it. After his brows dipped down low and his hands balled into tight fists, she knew she was right.

Gendry had that look in his eyes again, the look he had with the man in the train, but this time there was no sound from him. He simply walked out of the living room and into the kitchen. It wasn’t until he came back that Arya’s heart stopped.

The shotgun was in his hand and aimed at Mr. Smallwood, and as he stepped closer, the end of the barrel came closer to the man’s head. “Get your clothes, Arya,” he told her. His voice was hard and was scaring her.

She grabbed her clothes from the other side of the room as Mrs. Smallwood watched with wide, disbelieving eyes, having not moved an inch. Her eyes were on her husband for a long time before they rose to meet Arya’s. They were apologetic, but Arya didn’t care as she turned and went to leave the house. The problem was that Gendry wasn’t behind her.

The gun was now touching the side of the man’s head, and Gendry’s finger twitched at the trigger. She stood beside the gun, facing Gendry, desperately trying to get him to look at her and not Mr. Smallwood.

“We have to go, Gendry.” She lifted a hand to cup his cheek and hoped for his focus to shift. It did after what seemed like so long. She'd persuaded him to leave without shooting the man, when they left the house, Gendry was still holding the shotgun.

They walked for quite a while, neither saying a word to the other. It wasn’t until the tree cover had become denser when they found Nymeria waiting for them. Arya knelt down and wrapped her arms around the wolf, her body shaking uncontrollably and the rush of fear and anger started to pour out of her in her sobs until it left her weary.

Gendry placed his hand on her shoulder to comfort her, but the feel of his hand there, the very spot Mr. Smallwood had touched her when she thought he was Gendry, made Arya flinch. Gendry pulled his hand away quickly and whispered to her that they had to go, that he didn’t trust the distance between them and the Smallwood’s house.

Before they left, she took the shotgun from him and threw it over a steep dip in the woods. It wasn’t as though it was any good to them to travel with, and she didn’t want that man getting back his weapon.

It was about an hour of more walking before Gendry pulled her to stop. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop him. He said he wanted us separate because we weren’t related or married, but I never thought he wanted me away so he could…”

The words choked in his throat as he looked away from her, and in the little moonlight that filtered through the tree cover, she could see his eyes glistening.

Arya couldn’t feel anything inside anymore. The last remnant of emotion was when Gendry touched her shoulder and she felt that jolt of fear, but after that something snapped in her. She couldn’t feel anything.

“We have to put more distance between us and that house. Come on,” she said to him as she continued to walk.

Are you reading this story on a site that's not AO3 or FF? It doesn't belong there. It was stolen & the owner of the site is a thief and untrustworthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Living on wind pudding" means to not have anything to eat.
> 
>  
> 
> _A comment a day keeps the writer's block away!_


	7. Breezers Carrying the Banner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who commented, kudo'd, and/or bookmarked this story.

They walked hard and quick over the rocky terrain, covering so much ground that Arya's feet were starting to hurt. Gendry's were as well, probably, but they had to put as much distance between them and that farmhouse as possible.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, they had less and less moonlight to light their way, barely able to make out shapes farther than arm’s length. So with all of her trust, she followed Nymeria, Gendry followed her, and they were able to keep a brisk pace. Still, in between every crunch of their feet on the leaves and debris of the woods, she heard Mr. Smallwood shushing her, telling her to quit squirming. Each time a branch grazed her arm, she thought of Mr. Smallwood's rough hands touching her. In the shadows she saw a monstrous face, a distorted mash of Mr. Smallwood and the man on the train, looking at her with hungry eyes, and her stomach lurched.

"Arya, please talk to me." It took some time for the words to work their way into her thoughts, and she'd almost forgotten Gendry was behind her until he called out to her. He reached out to gently touch her arm but didn't expect her to recoiled from his touch the way she did. Even in the dim light, she could see the sag in his shoulders and the hurt look in his eyes. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to regret her reaction. She couldn't understand why, but when she looked at him, she was reminded of that face, that hideous mash of Mr. Smallwood and the train man instead. Honestly, she didn't know why she was lumping him in with those vile men but only knew that she didn't want to look at him anymore.

That's when she remembered the coat Mrs. Smallwood had given her for him; it was in the bundle of clothes tucked under her arm. "It's cold," she mumbled before throwing it in his direction. It hit his chest before he caught it.

Satisfied that she'd said enough to him to make him happy, she turned back towards a waiting Nymeria and continued their trek deeper into the woods without another word to him.

After about another twenty minutes of walking, when even Arya was ready to call it quits, Nymeria thankfully stopped in a small clearing.

“I guess Nymeria's decided this is our camp?” Gendry asked her tentatively while scratching the scalp at the back of his head.

“I guess so,” was her only response already continuing to walk towards a darker section of the woods with the bundle of remaining clothes still tucked under her arm.

“Don’t go too far,” he called out to her, his voice full of worry, but she didn’t bother to answer. Nymeria was following behind her, and she had her dagger. She would never be without her dagger again.

In fact, when she was well out of sight, she used it to rip the slip and bloomers from her body, channeling her fear and rage and confusion and resentment, and what seemed like a hundred other emotions into each slice and tear until there was nothing left to shred. As she crouched over the pile of cotton cloths, a gust of the cold night air caused goosebumps to ripple across her skin. She pulled her own shirt over her head and pulled up her pants, finally feeling something like herself again, comfortable in her own skin. When it came to the last article of clothing left for her, the coat Mrs. Smallwood had given her, she stared at it for a long while before she dared to put it on. Mrs. Smallwood had done nothing to her, afterall.

She was glad she did. The coat fit like a glove and warmed her immediately.

Back where she'd left Gendry and Nymeria, Arya found him laying on his coat spread out on the ground. “Come and lay down. I’ll watch over you,” he said to her softly as he patted the spot next to him on the coat.

It didn’t matter how softly he said it. She didn’t want to be near him because it finally occurred to her why she included Gendry in the same group as Mr. Smallwood and the man on the train. Men wanted from women what Mr. Smallwood and that man on the train wanted from her, and it was clear as day that they were willing to take what they wanted. She couldn’t even say that Gendry wouldn’t be like them. He was just a boy, but he was almost a man grown, and he was with Jeyne, probably doing just that.

For all she knew, his reason for “helping” her to California could be for that very reason.

So instead of laying on the coat, she selected a spot some distance from him, sat on the ground facing him with her knees drawn close to her chest, and gripped her dagger tightly in her hand. Nymeria curled her body into a ball beside her.

Gendry kept his eyes downcast, only lifting them to eye her once before dropping them down again until he rubbed his face in frustration. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you,” he said to her, guilt and and remorse in his voice and his eyes.

That’s when she looked at him, truly looked at him. Her rage, all of it, had long since passed the point of boiling to the surface. It was boiling over and onto him as the only male around her. “What? Did you want to protect me from him so you could have me all to yourself?”

His eyes widened at the accusation, and his face paled in what little moonlight there was under the tree canopy.

“How could you...why would you..." he stammered, unable to finish his thought until he finally forced out with a tone that was deceptively calm, but there was no mistaking the rage and resentment there as he stood up. "Is that what you think of me?"

She didn't answer him, but then again she didn't have to. Her body spoke for her with her eyes hard on him, her body rigid and her fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the dagger. He let out a disgusted grunt before he turned his back to her and prepared to lay back down when she answered him.

“And what? You’re helping me get to California out of the goodness of your heart?” she challenged him, daring him to deny it. Her words did keep him quiet for a moment, and that was her proof that she had him. So close to the truth, she pushed on. "You probably can’t wait to do it. To take advantage of me the way you did Jeyne! You did _that_ with her, then you just left her!”

“Jeyne?” he spat out her name as though it were a curse. "Is that what this is about? You think I did something with Jeyne and left her?"

Arya's lips pursed and her arms folded across her chest as she let her knees lower a bit, waiting for him to spew his lies. Whatever they were, she was ready for them.

“They called me into the vent, and I thought it was you!” he said to her, having trouble speaking through seemingly bitterness, but she didn't think he had any reason to be bitter.

"She yelled at me the moment she saw me. Told me to stay away from you, keep my hands off of you. Told me that you're too young for me, too innocent for someone like me. Going on and on about me as though I'm some man of the world or something. Like some smoothie ready to talk you into..."

He winced at the rest of his thoughts, then his shoulders slumped in defeat. Jeyne had said much of the same to her, and there was a moment, a second, when she thought that mayhaps he wasn't lying to her. Arya was almost ready to believe him, but that would mean trusting him, and she couldn't bring herself to do that.

“I’m no man of the world, Arya. For gods’ sake, my first kiss was with you.” His weariness was in his voice now.

Arya rolled her eyes and snorted at that, glad that she didn't submit to the temptation of falling for his lies. "Horseshit!" she yelled at him. "The women in the shantytown and the girls in the orphanage couldn’t keep their eyes off of you, called you _dreamy_.” She emphasized the word with her hands pressed to her chest and her eyes fluttering as she remembered the girls in the orphanage.

This time it was his turn to snort out a laugh that was anything but mirthful. “Dreamy, huh? I’ve been on my own since I was younger than you.” His tone was getting angrier and his voice louder by the word, “What girl wants to even look at some Jack with no job..."

His face grew redder as his voice grew louder, "...no family..."

His fists balled up tightly as though he were about to hit something...or someone, "...no home..."

Until he looked deranged and wild. If his temper had scared Arya before, that was nothing compared to the what was before her now. "...and not a penny to his name? So tell me, what girl would want a guy like that?”

She wanted to argue with him, that none of that meant anything to...the girls in the orphanage, but he kept going, screaming at her. “I could’ve used what little money I’ve had over the years to go to a cathouse, but then I think of my mother and…” The hard, loud words trailed off and the look on his face was enough to make Arya wonder. It was clear he didn’t mean to tell her that much. In frustration, he let out a strangled growl and spat out, “Forget it!” before turning away from her.

"Your mother?" she pressed the issue. If she was going to trust him again, then she had to truly know him. No more secrets.

For a long while he was silent, and Arya wondered if he would ever answer her.

“She was about your age when she had me," he said, finally, dropping down to sit back on the ground. "My father, whoever the cold-hearted bastard was, was a powerful man and always got what he wanted. One day, he decided he wanted my ma.”

What he was starting to described reminded Arya of Mr. Smallwood and the man on the train, and she didn't think she would like what he was about to hear.

“It was just her and her parents, then," Gendry said as he sat on his coat and bent one knee to rest his arm, "and when the bastard asked for my ma, her parents told him no. So he had her father arrested for stealing his pocket-watch and her mother was killed in the street for her wedding ring not long after. She had no one to turn to but him. Even as he forced himself on her, he promised her the moon but all she got from him was me.”

He sniffed at that, the shame and helplessness of his past caused tears to well in his eyes, but the bitterness and rage held them at bay. Suddenly, Arya understood why he was so angry with the man on the train and Mr. Smallwood. When he saw those men, knowing what they tried to do, he saw his father raping his mother, leaving her with child and nothing else. She was wrong, so very wrong to lump him in with those men. It was clear to her now why he pushed her away when he was "excited." There was no doubt anymore that nothing happened between him and Jeyne. If it had, he wouldn't have left her there with the possibility that she might have his child. Arya finally felt like she understood him now that she realized his goal in life was to never be his father.

It also seemed that his story wasn't finished. She jumped slightly at his voice, lost in her own thoughts, when he continued.

“She didn't have anyone to turn to, again. All she had was another cold-hearted bastard who offered room and board so long as she cleaned his house..."

Arya didn't think that was such a bad offer until he finished the sentence with "his cathouse."

"Then I was born. They say I was a colicky baby, and cried day and night. Baelish threatened to put us out in the street because of me, but my mother begged him. This time, he insisted that she would work in his cathouse as one of his women, and I would stay in the attic where the potential Johns couldn’t hear me.”

The anger in his voice was rising again and Arya felt sick, her stomach turning at his words. For years she'd learned how cruel people could be to each other, but it seemed she still had far more to learn.

“The attic was drafty and I always got sick, but the women adored me and nursed me to health every time. As I got older, Baelish sent me out to work with people he called his ‘acquaintances’ in construction. Was away for long periods of time, which I think was what he wanted. The last time I saw him was when I’d just come back, and he accused my mother of hiding money from him. He beat her, I hit him, he had some of his men hold me to watch as he beat her until she didn't move on the floor. I couldn't even check to see if she was alive. He kicked me out. Told me if I came back, he'd have me and my mother killed. It gave me hope that she was still alive, so I did as he said. ”

Gendry stared at the ground, his eyes in the sparse moonlight seemed lifeless as though the story had killed whatever it was that made Gendry, Gendry. After all that he'd been through, all that he'd witnessed his mother go through, he was still kind and honorable and Arya felt her guilt mounting until that was all she could feel. She'd accused him of being the one person he didn't ever want to be, the one person that made his life the shit it was.

She crawled across the ground slowly, too emotionally and physically drained to stand, and when she knelt before him, he looked down to meet his eyes to hers. He was embarrassed, his emotions were fully exposed and open to her, and all she could think to do was wrap her arms around him and nuzzle her face in his chest. "I'm sorry, Gendry. I should never've said what I said."

He didn't move his arms to hold her, and she couldn't blame him. Her insult to him cut deeper than she ever thought possible, and she wouldn't blame him if he never forgave her. There were some things an apology couldn't fix. So she released him from her hold, removed her coat and laid down on his coat he'd spread out for them as a blanket. She then shook hers out so that it was spread across most of her body with some extra left for Gendry.

She closed her eyes and felt him lay next to her, taking care not to touch her or take any of her coat to cover himself. She felt awful enough as it was; she wouldn't let him sleep through rest of the night without some cover from the cold. Turning on her side, she covered him with some of her coat. While she was there, she draped her arm over his broad chest underneath, and nuzzled her face in his arm. He stiffened at her touch but his muscles relaxed slowly. How she wanted to feel his strong arms around her.

There were several times when she was on the cusp of sleep, only to wake each time. It wasn’t until she was at that edge again that she felt him turn slightly and his arm wrapped around her. Sleep came quickly after that.

* * *

Her eyes opened to daylight filtered through the heavy tree canopy and the view of Gendry’s arm wrapped protectively around her under her coat. Tilting her head, she studied his face, her mind still too foggy to care why her stomach flipped and fluttered when she looked at him.

This was the time when he looked his age, like the boy he was but everyone forgot because of his size. She imagined his blue eyes open and his lips smiling at her, remembering how all of those features looked when he laughed. His lips became her focus as she remembered how soft they were when they were pressed against hers. Still not fully awake and wholly appreciative of the boy's face only inches from her own, there was only one word she could think of and it tumbled out of her mouth: “Dreamy.”

“What?” She watched his lips form the question, and then the sound of it sunk into her foggy mind a moment later. Realizing that he was awake and had heard her woke her fully and immediately. Heat rushed through her body and her eyes shot up to meet his, now fully open.

She had that tingle of embarrassment at the nape of her neck that became an uncomfortable itch as she bolted into a sitting position, pulling her coat from them. “Dreaming!” she finally said too quickly, too forcefully that she knew wouldn't convince anyone. Still, she hoped and continued with her lie. “I dreamt of a my mother’s stew. I'm hungry.”

At first he didn’t say anything. His eyes narrowed at her, and his brows drew together. If she wasn't praying to the gods that he believed her lie, she would have laughed at how he always looked as though he were in pain when he was thinking.

As though he’d worked something out in his head, he simply rested his head in his hand balanced by his elbow. “Is that so? ‘Cause I could’a sworn you called me dreamy," he said with a teasing lilt in his voice and a half smirk.

Arya cursed under her breath, completely mortified that she was caught in her lie and there was no getting out of it, that she'd called him dreamy and he'd heard her. It didn’t help that his half grin was slowly turning into a full smile as she desperately tried to regain her composure. He was on the edge of laughter just the way she liked to see him, even if it was at her own expense, and the beauty of it, of him, made her forget everything for a moment as she leaned down and pressed her lips to his for a heartbeat before retreating.

He no longer looked at her as though he were about to laugh. Instead, he looked at her the way he did in the vent, shy and unsure, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest until she thought it might break free. The night before, he'd bared his soul to her, and she finally knew him, trusted him with her whole being. If he could be honest with her, then she had to be honest with herself.

He sat up so slowly, Arya was sure he was afraid he might scare her, and he held out his hand to cup her jaw. There was a moment of hesitation, a moment where he seemed to reconsidered what he’d planned to do, but then he tentatively leaned forward as she did the same.

The heat of his lips on hers had her body tingling all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. It was almost natural the way her body yielded to him as his fingertips slid to the nape of her neck to pull her in closer. They were so close that their bodies were flush, and he hovered over her with his kisses.

All of her senses thrummed with a steady rhythm that was Gendry until she felt her entire body as one pulse point. A whimper turned into an outright moan from her against his mouth which only caused Gendry to pull her to him even tighter and tease at the seam between her lips, eager for something.

If only she knew what it was, she would have gladly given it to him. Her mind blanked until there was nothing she could think of but Gendry's lips against hers, his strong fingers holding her firmly at the nape of her neck, his protective arms around her body, his hard barrel chest against her, and his scent filling her nose, surrounding her fully. She felt wholeness, even when she wasn't aware that she was incomplete, until they were torn apart again. Her eyes snapped open to find Gendry staring at her, breathing as heavily as she was with his lips red and slightly swollen from their kisses. He was what had pulled them apart with his hands on her shoulders distancing them at arm's length.

She was about to say something, ask him if she'd done anything wrong, but then she remembered Jeyne's words. As much as she tried not to, her eyes darted to his pants to confirm it.

"Arya, no more."

"But—"

Ready to admit to him that she didn't care, that not only did she not mind his touches and kisses, but she craved them, that her body tingled at the slightest thought of him touching elsewhere on her body, that he made her curious to try with him what men and women did, her admissions were interrupted by a quick kiss to her lips and a warm smile that didn't set her body on fire like the last, but made her heart flutter. All she could do was smile back. Even though she'd overcome her scars, no longer seeing the man on the train or Mr. Smallwood in him, even though she'd admitted, at least to herself, that she wanted Gendry the way men and women want each other, he had his own scars to work through. And she had to give him time for that.

To their side, there was a heavy thud and the sound of Nymeria panting next to them. They both turned to see her sitting there with her muzzle tinted red and two dead rabbits in front of her on the ground.

* * *

Arya rested her head on the side of the wolf, picking her teeth with a splintered bone and satisfied with her full belly. Nymeria had brought four rabbits back to them in all, obviously the woods were overrun with the critters.

With her knife, Arya was able to gut and skin them, and Gendry started a fire with nothing but some wood, dry moss and lots of twirling.

“Where’d you learn to start a fire like that?” she asked him casually as he tossed another twig into the small fire under their last rabbit. It was a good thing that he did know how to do it; Arya didn’t relish the idea of eating the meat raw.

“My ma showed me,” he said softly.

Although she should have, she didn't think too far ahead when she asked the question. She felt awful for bringing his ma up again and apologized, “I'm sorry.”

"It's o. k.," he said, but she could tell by the look of him that it wasn't. Thanks to her question, he was thinking of his mother again, and Arya cursed herself for her thoughtlessness.

Strangely, he shrugged and shook his head as though clearing his mind of his thoughts, tossed another twig into their little fire before turning to her with a smirk. "So, since this is how things are between us now, we're being honest with each other, when were you going to tell me about the baby, wife?"

Arya was completely confused by his question. Baby? Wife? For a long moment, she tried to think of what he was talking about as he stared at her with the smirk growing into a wide grin. Suddenly, he started laughing until he had to hold his sides. He was laughing at her, and she couldn't figure out what the heck was going on until she remembered the shantytown, and the mission woman with her fliers. The lie she told the woman for some food and help for Gendry.

"I said that to save your life!"

He kept laughing, falling on his side and rolling as he did so. She was getting angrier with him by the second and thought about walking over to him and giving him a good kick, but he sobered slowly and wiped a stray tear squeezed out from his laughter.

"The woman stopped me one day while I was coming back from work. Told me it was the gods' will that I take care of you and the baby. That I had a great responsibility on my hands."

Absolutely mortified, Arya couldn't look at him or think of anything to say. All she could do was close her eyes and wish the whole conversation would end. He'd known what she'd told the woman ever since the shantytown, and there was no excuse for it. She could've said he was her brother, but she didn't and they both knew why.

Mercifully, he changed the subject. "We should get going soon. We can't stay here forever with the weather getting colder, and this rabbit will make great traveling food."

Relieved that he dropped the talk about her lie in shantytown, Arya glanced up at him only to see his eyes focused on the fire and the self-satisfied grin on his face as he turned the rabbit on the makeshift spit.

Are you reading this story on a site that's not AO3 or FF? It doesn't belong there. It was stolen & the owner of the site is a thief and untrustworthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Breezers" were another name for hobos. 
> 
> "Carrying the banner" had two meanings that I've found that are similar. The first is simply that the person(s) is traveling on foot while the other meaning is more specific, that the person(s) is traveling to avoid being caught or freeze to death.
> 
>  
> 
> _Comments are how you pay a fanfic author. Feedback is worth it's weight in gold._


	8. Mountain Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who commented, kudo'd, and/or bookmarked this story.

It felt as though the woods went on forever over hills that became steeper and trees that grew denser. After most of the day, they covered a lot of ground and still not a road in sight. They turned left, they turned right and still more trees and dirt and rocks.

Soon it would be time for them to stop for the night, allow Nymeria to hunt more rabbits that they could cook the next morning; it would mean another night curled up in Gendry’s arms, trying to keep warm under her coat. She thought long and hard about his arms around her, his body pressed closely to hers when she felt him bump into her shoulder, knocking her thoughts from her.

“What ‘re you thinking about?” he asked her, “You have such a silly smile on your face.”

“Nothing,” she responded a little too quickly and he immediately narrowed his eyes at her, studying her closely. She really needed to calm her herself when it came to him if she wanted to hide her thoughts.

He was about to say something to her when Nymeria stopped abruptly and growled at something ahead of them. Arya gripped her dagger while Gendry looked around them and found a hefty branch that would make a decent weapon. Both didn’t move, listening for the barest of sounds other than the chirping birds overhead.

There was a thump and then the sound of dogs, a lot of them. The three walked toward the chaotic sounds of barking and whimpering and whining until there was one howl that silenced them all. At the edge of a clearing was an old cabin with a man standing on his porch with what looked to be a dozen bloodhounds. He was howling in the center of them, and one by one the dogs joined in with their howls.

Arya and Gendry watched the man quietly, but it didn’t matter how quiet they were. One bloodhound sniffed the air then turned to rushed down the porch stairs towards them. It was followed by other bloodhounds until they had the dozen coming at them full steam.

The only thing standing between them and the wild dogs was Nymeria with her hackles up and her teeth bared. She growled at them, the growl of a wolf, and the dogs backs away but not completely. Slowly, the made their way around until Arya, Gendry and Nymeria were completely surrounded by the howling, barking bloodhounds.

“What the fuck are two kids doing running around in my woods?” the man that had been howling with his dogs slurred from behind his hounds with a shotgun in one hand and a jug of moonshine in the other.

It was only then that they got a good look at him and the disfigurement of the entire side of his face. He was absolutely frightening to look at, and quickly Gendry stepped in front of Arya as though to shield her from the man. Even though she understood why he did it, Arya just rolled her eyes and pushed him out of the way. She didn’t need him to shield her!

“We didn’t know these were your woods. All we want is to find a road that leads to a town with a rail station or rail yard.”

The man eyed Arya, then Gendry, and then back to Arya. Finally, after what seemed like a whole minute, he grunted gruffly and turned away from them. Gendry visibly relaxed but Arya wasn’t finished with this man.

“Well? You gonna tell us how to get there or not?”

The man ignored her as he shuffled his way back to his porch, the bloodhounds following him. As soon as he turned his back to them, the dogs didn’t seem to have any interest in them anymore.

“It’s a long walk to the nearest town. Might as well stay here for the night. I’ll drive you both into town in the mornin’. Have some tradin’ to do anyway,” he mumbled, not bothering to even look at them as he opened the door to his cabin.

“Seven hells no!” Gendry shouted at him, and then his eyes fixed hard on Arya. “I’m not going to have you stay in this house with that man.”

Arya knew he was thinking of Mr. Smallwood because she was too. “He’s not going to do anything. I took care of Mr. Smallwood, remember? Besides that, this time I’ll have you and Nymeria and this,” she whispered as she patted the handle of her dagger sticking out of the waistband of her pants. “We stick together. Right?”

The wild look in Gendry’s eyes and the tension in his shoulders faded somewhat as he gave her a nod. “We’re sleeping together. Her, me and the wolf.”

The man’s eyes lazily shifted to Gendry, to Arya, to Nymeria, then back to Gendry before he muttered, “I don’t give a rat’s ass where the three of you sleep. You can fuck the child or the wolf or both for all I care.” Gendry’s back stiffened at that. Arya was no stranger to coarse language, but even she had to admit that the man was offensive. “Just don’t be too loud about it. I like my sleep." He started to shuffle into the cabin then stopped to add, "The hounds sleep outside so there’ll be no problems with your beast in the house,” he said before taking another swig of his moonshine and entering the cabin completely.

Arya was the first to move, then Nymeria, followed by a very reluctant Gendry.

“So, what’s your name?” Arya asked as the continued into the cabin. The man kept walking, only stopping at the fireplace across the room to stir a pot that rested on the hearth close to the fire.

“Don’t you have a name?” she pushed on, but then Gendry bumped his side into her to get her attention, enough to give her a hint that she was being pushy.

“Fine then. I'll give you a name. I think I’ll call you Hound.”

The man’s lips curled and then a rumbling followed until he was barking out a laugh that startled Gendry and Arya. Him laughing by the firelight made him seem even more frightening to look at.

“What’s so funny?” Arya had to ask him, starting to feel offended again. This man had a talent for offending her.

“Can’t think of a better name for me,” he said when his laughter faded into a chuckle. He gave the pot one more stir before reaching for his moonshine. He brought it to his lips with ease, obviously a natural movement for him, but then hesitated and eyed Gendry who hadn’t taken his untrusting eyes off of him. “Here. You need to relax a little. Besides, it’ll put hair on your chest.” he said while offering the jug to him.

“Gendry’s already got hair on his chest!” Arya blurted. Gendry’s face flushed red, and it suddenly dawned on her what she’d admitted to: she’d seen his bare chest and took a good look. That’s when her cheeks burned, and she looked away as the Hound grunted “uh huh.” Gendry took the jug and took a large gulp before handing it back.

The Hound didn’t take it, though. He simply waved his hand and told Gendry, “You’d better take a few more. Being with that one, you’re gonna’ need all the drink you can get.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Arya questioned as Gendry took another gulp from the jug, but the Hound only snorted and pulled the pot away from the fire.  
……

Nymeria was curled in a ball with Gendry and Arya resting their heads on her soft fur. The skin the Hound had given them as a blanket was large enough to fit both of them without having to cuddle close. That’s what disappointed Arya the most, but at least they were warm and had full bellies.

“Arya?” he called to her in the darkness, no light but the soft, red glow of the fading embers in the fireplace. He was slurring slightly, having had too much of the Hound’s moonshine. “Have you ever thought about what it would be like to get hitched?”

At that, Arya had to roll her eyes but didn’t say anything.

“Do you?” he pressed on.

“No,” she said simply before staring up into the darkness of the room.

There was a disappointed, “Oh,” from him before the room had gone quiet again. The truth was that she had thought about marriage ever since her talk with Mrs. Smallwood, and she didn’t want any part of it. No, that wasn’t true. She was curious about what married people do, and her body, as traitorous as it was, wouldn’t let her forget it. But marriage meant some husband telling her what to do, and meant babies crying and tying her to him. That wasn’t the life for her.

“Arya?”

It was then that Arya swore to herself if Gendry ever drank again, she’d kick him hard. “What Gendry?”

“Can I kiss you?”

At that, Arya’s mind halted and heat rushed throughout her body. “Yes,” she didn’t bother to hold herself back from saying the word and turned towards him, feeling around for him. Mayhaps him drinking wasn’t so bad.

They met each other halfway and he pressed his lips to hers. He then tasted her lower lip with a sweep of his tongue. Arya wanted more of him, wanted to feel him against her so she pushed him back until she hovered over him. His kisses were wet and clumsy, and she tasted the alcohol on his breath, but his body felt glorious beneath hers and more than made up for it. She had to break away from him to catch her breath, but when she sought his lips again, ready for more, his didn’t respond. There was only the soft sounds of his breathing; he was sleeping!

“Stupid!” she grumbled while turning back to her spot on the floor. “If you so much as drink another drop, I’ll kick you!” she swore in the dark to a now snoring Gendry.

* * *

The Hound started the engine to his truck while Arya, Gendry and Nymeria hopped in the back. As soon as they were settled, Gendry pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead and groaned. Most of his whining was dulled out by the truck’s engine and the sound of it traveling over rocks and dirt, but she rolled her eyes at him nonetheless.

“Serves you right, drinking with the Hound,” she said, still angry with him for falling asleep.

“Yeah,” he said with another groan. He didn’t say anything more after that, and Arya wondered if he remembered the night before. Did he remember asking her about marriage or kissing her before falling asleep? She didn’t bother to ask, that was one hornet's nest she didn't want stirred up again.

Once they reached the town, the Hound pointed them in the direction of the rail yard and they quickly found a train heading west. It was an empty boxcar, and not having to worry about watchful eyes, Arya stood by the door to watch the land rush by.

Gendry walked up behind her and slipped his hand around her waist. She turned into him, tilted her head upward and eyed him questioningly. He’d never been so bold before, but she had to admit to herself that she liked this side of Gendry.

He dipped down and claimed her mouth, urging her with his tongue to part her lips, and she gave in to him. This was what he’d wanted from her before but she didn’t understand, and when he tentatively caressed his tongue against hers, she wished she had.

The feel of his tongue against hers, his body pressed to hers, his arms around her waist still wasn’t enough to quench the need building inside of her. Her hands clutched at his shirt underneath his open coat and pulled him down to her, to be closer to her. She’d taken control of their kiss, her tongue eagerly exploring his mouth, and she moaned at just how good he felt. He grunted in response, and his hips pressed closer. She felt his pecker hard against her, but this time he didn’t pull away from her completely. Instead, he broke their kiss.

“I want to kiss you like that for the rest of my life,” he said to her breathlessly, but he didn’t seem happy to say it. Rather, he seemed like he was making a wish that he knew wouldn’t come true, and then she realized what he was saying without saying it. It was some sort of goodbye. This time, it was Arya who pulled away from him, walking away to sit near Nymeria.

If you've found this story on a site other than AO3 or FF, it does not belong there. It's stolen and you should consider the owner of the site to be a thief and untrustworthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An "angel" was someone who offered food, shelter, etc. without expecting anything in return.
> 
> BTW, if there are any terms/idioms that aren't clear by context, let me know and I'll explain.
> 
>  
> 
> _Feed a muse. Leave a comment._


	9. Going With the Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who commented, kudo'd, and/or bookmarked this story.

In the afternoons the sun was always strongest, and that meant they were still heading south. At least, that’s what Gendry told her. It was also a good sign that the weather was warming and they needed their coats less and less as they traveled on that rail line.

By the time they’d reached Sacramento, the three had to hide from the bulls. Arya considered leaving the rail station and wandering the city in search of her cousin, but they overheard men talking about how bustling San Fransisco was with jobs. That’s where her cousin would be! That’s where she knew she would find him.

The train stopped in the rail yard no where near as sprawling as the one near Sacramento, but it was filled with a lot of trains loading or unloading cargo. Everyone was so busy that no one noticed the three hopping out of the boxcar before the bulls could even see them. Nymeria trotted ahead when Gendry grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction of the city.

When her father and brother died, it broke something in Arya that she didn’t think would ever fix. She’d lost her entire family in New York and all she had left was a cousin she half remembered and wasn’t even sure remembered her.

And here she was, so close to finding him with Nymeria by her side and her hand in Gendry’s. When he turned back with the widest smile he’d ever given her, she didn’t feel so broken anymore; those pieces were starting to become whole. “We made it!” he said to her, with just as much excitement as her own. She wanted to add to that a simple word that made it all seem so right, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Together.”

The bustle of the town was unlike anything they’d seen since leaving the east, and both found themselves staring with mouths agape and round eyes. Nymeria sat on her haunches and looked up at them questioningly.

Everywhere they looked, businesses were booming, hard at work. All stores were stocked fully, and there were so many of them from household goods to lumber. Not a one was without their hands full with customers.

They moved to cross the street when a man grabbed Arya by the arm tightly with a hand as dry and cracked as his face. He had that look in his eyes, the same as Mr. Smallwood and that man on the train, full of want for something she couldn’t understand, but his eyes weren’t on her; they were on Nymeria.

Arya was about to reach for her dagger with her free hand when Gendry stepped between them and gave the man a shove, sending him back several paces. “What do you want?” Gendry stepped forward until he wasn’t more than a foot away from the man, towering over him with his height and his fists clenched.

“You got yourself a wolf, there. Big bounty on that pelt,” the man jutted his chin in the direction of Nymeria, his eyes flickering between her and Gendry.

Arya felt the cold tingle creep up the back of her neck and said the first lie she could think of. “That’s not a wolf, stupid! That’s a half wolf, my half wolf.”

“Looks like a full one to me, boy,” he countered quickly, but before Arya could say anything more, Gendry took another step forward, bringing himself toe to toe with the man who seemed to shrink from Gendry, now.

“Keep your hands off of…him, and keep your eyes off the wolf,” Gendry growled at the man, sounding part wolf himself. Arya would have laughed if not for Nymeria’s life at risk or that when he turned away from the man to return to her, there was nothing funny about the look in his eyes. She’d seen it before, and it always unsettled her.

They continued down the busy street quietly, Gendry brows still scrunched and his lips still tight. And Arya was unsure of what to say to calm him when he suddenly stopped at the stairs of a large building. Over the top of it were the words, “City Hall.”

“Mayhaps they’ll have some clue where you can find your cousin.”

As they looked up the steps leading to the two story building, Arya realized that she wouldn’t be able to bring Nymeria inside, but she couldn’t leave her alone outside either, especially with a bounty on wolves.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stay with her,” he offered, knowing exactly why she hesitated.

She smiled her thanks and rushed up the stairs and through the heavy double doors.

Inside were two grand staircases at either side and several doors leading to who knew where. Arya was completely lost and had no idea where to even begin to look for help.

“May I help you, young man?” a woman with a stack of papers loaded in the crook of her arm approached her, taking pity on her confused state. Arya wasn’t prepared for the woman to tower over her just as much as Gendry, and her tight bun at the back of her head made her homely face seem severe. Arya's voice froze in her throat and her mouth opened with no sound to come out.

The woman cocked a waiting eyebrow at her, and Arya was sure the woman would leave if she didn’t say say something soon. So quickly and with as much force as she could muster, she willed herself to speak, but unfortunately, it came out as a complete jumble of words.

The woman tilted her head to the side, not sure what to make of Arya, but by then, Arya had found her voice again. “I’m looking for my cousin, Jon Snow.”

Both eyebrows shot up on the woman at that, “Oh? A cousin?”

“Do you know him? He’s the only family I’ve got left,” Arya was hopeful, very hopeful and couldn’t stop the trembling in her body at the anticipation that she might have found her link to her cousin.

“Follow me,” she said before walking up one of the staircases and stopped at a desk in one of the side offices. She dropped the stack of paper on it, giving them a scornful look as though resenting each and every page before she left the office to walk down a long hall that led to winding stairs, ending with what had to be a basement of some sort.

There were aisles and aisles of shelves with hard leather bound books of all sizes. The woman pulled one from the shelf and dropped it onto one of the nearby tables.

From her effort, a stray blond hair came free of her tight bun. The woman blew it back with frustration and muttered something about how her silly husband preferred her hair long before flipping the cover open. “Ah, here,” she said aloud, pointing to scribbles on that particular page.

 

_Jon Snow and Ygritte Crowe, married November 14, 1934_

 

Arya stared at the name for a moment before she turned to the woman staring at her curiously. “Hard couple to forget. He was a city boy through and through, and she was a red haired half-Indian raised in the woods all her life. I’ve never seen anything like the two of them together.”

The woman studied Arya then asked suddenly, “You’re no boy, are you?”

“No, Miss…”

“Mrs. Tarth,” the woman quickly corrected.

“No, Mrs. Tarth. I’m a girl.”

“Well, then I might be able to help you a little more,” she said as she flipped the open book closed and lugged it back to the shelf.

They both left what Mrs. Tarth called the archives and showed Arya out of the City Hall, but at the steps, Arya didn’t see Gendry or Nymeria. Panicked and the blond woman forgotten, Arya scanned up and down the street for the two when she found them across and down a little at the WPA booths.

Several men were crowding in line. Some had hopeful looks on their faces, while others had hope beaten out of them long ago by their hard life. Gendry was among a group of them clustered around a truck. His eyes darted in the direction of the City Hall as though he were constantly keeping an eye on it, but when he saw her, he stopped whatever conversation he had to run to her with Nymeria at his heels.

He was waving a paper high in the air and a bright smile wide on his face.

“Look what I got!” he said, shaking the paper in front of her so much that there was no way for her to even read it. “Well,” she gave him a smack on the side of her arm, “either show me or tell me what it is. Either way, stop waving that thing in my face.” There was a grin on her face that only made him smile more.

“I got a job, Arya! They have a job for me!”

She should have been happy for him, but for some reason it made her stomach and heart plummet. “Here in California?” she asked him, but she didn’t need his answer. It was clear on his face and his body as his arms dropped to his sides and the smile vanished.

“They’ll only give old men jobs nearby. It’s in Washington state,” he said while handing her the paper.

She saw the signatures, Gendry’s and the men manning one of the WPA booths; she saw Okanogan, Washington. She saw the date, and if she wasn’t about to cry before, she had reason to, now.

“My birthday’s tomorrow. I’m going to be fifteen.” Arya sniffed and tried her best to hold the tears that were struggling to free themselves from her eyes. It wasn’t fair. The day before her birthday, she was so close to finding her cousin, and yet she was going to lose Gendry.

For some reason, what she’d said produced a tentative smile from him. “Fifteen, huh?” he asked while taking the paper from her and shoving it into his pocket. He grabbed hold of her hands in his, standing full and tall and near bursting with something she hadn’t ever seen in him: pride. “Come with me,” he pleaded with her, but there was strength to his voice, willing her to say yes to him.

“I can’t go with you. My cousin’s here, and I have to find him; I have to find what’s left of my family, Gendry.”

“Marry me. You’ll be fifteen, I can lie and say I’m eighteen. No one would think me a liar. And that’s good enough for California. I asked around,” he admitted shyly before adding, “I can be your family.”

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she was truly aware of what she was saying. “You wouldn’t be my family! You’d be my husband!” She didn’t mean to say it with so much venom, but she didn’t want to marry. Marriage meant having babies that would tie her down to a house and husband, even if that husband was Gendry.

She didn’t want to go to Washington, and honestly, she didn’t want Gendry to go either. All she wanted was for him to stay so she could be free with Gendry and Nymeria by her side. Was that so much to ask?

At that, Gendry gave her a forced smile and dipped his head down until his brows pressed against hers. They stayed this way for some time before he pulled away to kiss her forehead. Behind him, she noticed the truck of men staring at them curiously, but impatiently. So when they separated, she asked him, “You’re leaving, right now?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I need this job just like you need your cousin.”

She couldn’t ask him to stay; it was a paying job. But she did have one request. “Take Nymeria with you?”

He gave her a puzzled look before comprehension smoothed out the creased brows. There was a bounty on wolves everywhere, but some places were worse than others. California was one of those worse places. He started to walk toward the truck, calling Nymeria to him, but the wolf wouldn’t budge. She sat there with her focus fixed on Arya. There was nothing Arya could do that would make the wolf move until she threw pebbles at her.

It was then that Nymeria hopped onto the truck with Gendry, and it rumbled to life, starting its journey north for Washington state.

So focused on them, she didn’t notice Mrs. Tarth speaking with a red-haired woman further down the street. She didn’t even notice the red-haired woman walking up to her until the woman’s fingers tapped her shoulder. The woman flipped her long, red braid from her shoulder to let it hang down her back as she folded her arms over her swollen pregnant belly.

Quickly, Arya wiped away the damned tear that manage to work it’s way free with her sleeve and the woman’s eyes darted in the direction of the truck before settling back on Arya. “Arya…Stark?” the woman asked her name with the most unusual accent she’d ever heard.

She didn’t know what to say to the woman except to ask how she knew her name, but the woman spoke again before she could. “My name’s Ygritte, Ygritte Snow.”

Arya blinked at the woman until the name sunk in. The name in the town hall book. Ygritte…Snow.

“Jon’s wife?”

The woman nodded happily before pulling Arya into a bear hug as though they’d known each other their entire lives. “We were so worried. We read in the newspaper about your father and brother, but nothing of you. He’ll be so happy!” She released Arya from the hug but then grabbed her wrist and started to pull her. “Don’t worry yourself, now. You’re with family.”

Arya followed the woman who would show her to the last of her family, yet, she couldn’t help but look back and think that mayhaps her family had left minutes before and was heading north.

Are you reading this story on a site that's not AO3 or FF? It doesn't belong there. It was stolen & the owner of the site is a thief and untrustworthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going with the birds meant that you would go south for the winter. 
> 
> As far as I could tell, the legal ages for marriage in California during this time were 15 for girls and 18 for boys. Also, I'm not sure of what cities looked like during the 1930's so I'm using my imagination. All of these things could be inaccurate, but that's what I'm working with.
> 
> Usually address(es) were listed for newly married couples, but for the sake of the story, I omitted that.
> 
> The wildlings always reminded me of Native Americans, so I wanted to make Ygritte Native American (also some of it factors into the epilogue), but I had to keep Ygritte's red hair. Therefore, here we have a half Native American Ygritte.
> 
> I couldn't help but to put Ygritte's maiden name as a form of crow. Then it made me laugh that their last names rhymed. I'm amused so easily.
> 
> And yes, I couldn't help but put in the "I can be your family." Seemed to fit nicely in what's going on with these two here.
> 
>  
> 
> _When you leave a comment, a fanfic fairy gets her wings._


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who commented, kudo'd, and/or bookmarked this story.

There was only one sentence on the otherwise blank piece of paper: _I miss you_. Arya muttered a curse before she threw the pencil down. She had gotten only a single letter from Gendry since he left six months ago, and it was just to tell her that he and Nymeria made it to their destination and he released her into the woods.

“Is that another letter that you’ll never finish for that boy in the truck?” Arya looked up to see Ygritte passing by the table with the cradle board strapped to her back. The contraption was a strange thing to see, but Arya had to admit that it was useful. Ygritte went into town, did chores and even hunted with that baby snugly tucked away inside it.

A month after Ygritte gave birth to her son was the first time Arya had seen her hunt with it, and she was awestruck. The woman moved through the woods that surrounded her home with such ease, Arya wondered how she did it. Through leaves as quiet as a mouse, snaking through the trees smooth and quick. Jon just laughed at her slack jaw and round eyes at watching his wife in action.

“What did you expect? For her to stay home and rock the baby all day?” He chuckled and shook his head as he leaned back to rest against a tree. “That’s not Ygritte.”

There was no hope that the two of them could keep pace with Ygritte, not to mention, they probably scared off any game as loud as they were.

“But you let her to go out and hunt?”

“Let her? Do you think I could tell her what to do any time of day? I fell in love with her for who she is, not what I could make her become. I wouldn’t have her be anyone else.”

Her cousin gave her a warm smile before pushing off the tree and walking to her. “Uncle Ned and Aunt Catelyn had the kind of marriage they wanted,” he said to her while tousling her hair. Already unruly because of it’s awkward length just below her jaw, she smacked his hand away which only made him laugh.

Arya blinked back the memory and looked over the letter again. The one sentence seemed so lonely on that paper, just as lonely as she felt.

_I miss you._

Her feelings were a jumble. Even before when she first laid eyes on her cousin and he wrapped his arms around her for the first time since her journey, she felt comfort and love, but she also felt as though an important part of her was missing. She couldn’t even remember the last time she smiled. Oh, yeah, it was with him. Gendry. All of it was summed up in the one little sentence.

_I miss you._

Ygritte didn’t wait for an answer, her focus shifted towards her husband and both shared a look before it turned back to Arya. “You should come into town with us. Mail that pitiful letter of yours, finally,” Ygritte suggested and before Arya could refuse, Jon joined in. “I think that’s a great idea. Would do you some good to be around people.”

The two meant well, but Arya just wanted to wallow in her misery, alone. If they went into town, she could do just that.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” Jon said to her, standing by Ygritte’s side. The two of them weren’t going to do anything but stare her down until she gave up and went with them. Arya set the pencil in the tin cup where they kept all of their pencils and stood from her chair, all the while staring at the one sentence in an otherwise empty paper. She couldn’t send that to him, but she did miss him so much.

When Jon and Ygritte turned to leave their house, little Jeory, snuggled inside the cradle board, peeked through the bundling at her. His grey eyes smiled at her as they often did. Surprisingly, little Jeory and his quite happy smiles taught her that babies weren’t so bad. So when she bled for the first time a couple of months ago, the thought that she could have a baby didn't bother her as much.

Jon was right, a husband and a baby didn’t stop Ygritte from doing what she wanted. Sure, there were responsibilities that had to be seen to, but that was the trade for having a home and family. Wasn't it?

Standing at the door of the house, she watched Jon help Ygritte remove the cradle board from her back as she slipped into the passenger side seat and then gently handed her the cradle board before rounding the car to sit in the driver’s seat. Both turned to look at Arya expectantly. They weren’t going to let her stay in the house.

She hopped into the back seat of the car and couldn’t help but watch as Ygritte tended to her son and Jon glanced over at his wife and son from time to time with the most content look she’d ever seen on a person. They were happy. Ygritte was as free as she wanted to be; they were truly happy. Arya started to wonder.

In the heart of the city, they stopped by the post office which was attached to the rail station. Across the street, Mr. and Mrs. Tarth were coming out of the City Hall, and Ygritte flagged them down.

Arya had learned not long after reuniting with her cousin that they were good friends of Jon and Ygritte. It didn’t help that every time Arya saw them, she was reminded of what Mrs. Tarth said about her cousin and his wife, how odd a couple they were, and had to laugh.

There was no odder couple than the Tarths. Both very tall, very blond, but Mr. Tarth was a gregarious man with a smile that seemed to sparkle while his wife looked as though she were punished to suck on lemons whenever she was around large social groups. Not to mention, she wasn’t a very attractive woman at all, but Arya’s cousin said that the woman had more heart than anyone he’d ever known. She guessed that was better. In a world where good hearts were getting harder and harder to find, it was better in her book.

“Arya, why don’t you go check for mail while we go talk to the Tarths,” Jon had suggested, and Arya was fine with that. She didn’t want to listen to the two couples prattle on.

“No mail for Snow or Stark,” the postman said behind the counter. Again, no letter from Gendry. Her fears started to run wild in her mind. Had he moved on, found someone else so quickly? It was a possibility. A lot of women found him dreamy as she’d learned, and now he had a job to boot. What would he want with a scrawny, boyish girl that didn’t know what she had until it left her?

That’s when the train caught her eye. It was just starting to leave the station, and towards the rear was a boxcar with an open door. She started to walk in its direction, then sped up until she was jogging alongside the moving train. The train moved faster and so did she until she was running to keep up with it. She didn’t see the support post for the rail station overhang until she bounced off of it and fell to the wooden slatted floor.

She watched the train leave and cursed the support post, except, it wasn’t a post at all. Gendry was standing there with his stupidly dazzling smile and his hand outstretched to help her up. She didn’t need his help, but she took it anyway because she wanted to feel her hand in his and make sure he was real.

“Going somewhere?” he asked her with a grin that said he knew the answer well enough all the while pulling her to stand in front of him.

It didn’t matter that he was teasing her or that she had no idea why or how he was there, but she knew that she wanted to hold him and not let go. She reached for his shirt and pulled his close, nuzzling her face deep into his chest, afraid that if she pulled away, he and everyone around them would see her tears fall freely.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, her voice muffled into his shirt.

She felt his rumble of laughter against his chest and in his arms around her. It only made her want to pull him closer to her. “You first,” he whispered after kissing the crown of her head.

His shirt was sopping with her tears, and when she gained the courage to look up at him, she saw the moisture in his own. “I was going to see you in Washington,” she forced herself to say as her eyes met his, but the words were barely more than a whisper.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” he said as he pulled away just enough to cup the side of her face in his hand, wiping away with his thumb the latest tear to roll down, “because I was going to move here.”

“Here?” She couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she looked down at the floor to the side of him where a large sack of his belongings had been dropped. “How?”

“Gendry turned around and motioned his head in the direction of Jon and Ygritte who were standing with the Tarths. Both couples were watching with large smiles. “Your cousin got me a job as a welder on the new bridge.”

Arya craned her neck to look around Gendry. Jon held Ygritte around her waist and the strange looks they'd given each other made sense, now. Jon even gave her a nod as though to confirm what Gendry was saying.

He was staying…with her. She grabbed two fistfuls of the collar of his shirt to pull him down to her so that she could press her lips to his, but she didn’t stop there. She wanted to taste him, so she urged his lips to part for her tongue.

There were gasps from people around them, scandalized by the obscene display of affection, but Arya didn’t care and neither did Gendry as he caressed the invading tongue with his own. There was a deep, throaty moan from him before he pulled them apart. She pouted and her lower lip protruded.

“Arya. Marry me.”

The longer it took for her to answer him, the deeper his brows dipped. He was going to say something, she could see it in the unhappy twitch of his lips, but she beat him to it. “As long as we can live in the woods.”

“We can do that.”

“And I will come and go as I please,” she said the words a little faster, unable to contain her excitement.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said but could barely finish before she was on to her next set of demands. “And I'm going to learn to hunt…”

“Sur—”

“…and you have to build a cradle board…”

“Cradle board?”

“…for the baby…”

“Baby?!”

“…and we have to find a dog that looks just like Nymeria.” She stopped talking, catching her breath and looking at him.

There was no doubt he was utterly confused with his face scrunched tightly from thinking too hard. And to stop him from hurting himself, Arya held his face between her hands and pulled him close to her again. There was only an inch of space between their noses when she said to him, “I’m saying ‘yes’ you stupid, bull-headed—”

There was no way she could finish because his lips were on hers, hard, after comprehension had smoothed out his face and there was no expression left but joy. It was the same kind of joy she saw in Jon when he looked at Ygritte.

He scooped her up into his arms until her toes dangled far off the ground as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. “I’ll give you all of that and more.” His voice cracked midway, and then he croaked out a single question. “When?”

Arya’s eyes slid in the direction of the City Hall, and then back to Gendry. “How about right now?”

If you've found this story on a site other than AO3 or FF, it does not belong there. It's stolen and you should consider the owner of the site to be a thief and untrustworthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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